Canna in my bowl

I always thought people like fruit. Some sweet, some bitter, but there’s always one that likes and dislikes each different kind. Some are rare and some are very common, all different colors and different shapes, even if you have two apples, they will never be the exact same. 

Though I personally never much cared for fruit I know it is a very popular food and personification could easily be brought from it.

I remember I once read a psychology book and it informed me that humans can’t help comparison. If you see something new you instantly begin to compare it to other things you have seen. And it’s even easier to compare to oneself; humans that is. We tend to follow the anthropomorphic way of life. The self centered way of comparing non human beings or objects to humans. That is the very reason why it is so easy to personify. Humans are self centered.

But I’m sure you knew all this already. Because everything in the world is congruent to your own needs since you are smarter and higher on the podium than every other person around you.

Now for all the people that are still here, still following my mindless babbling, I (yes I, for I’m not perfect like all of you) do the very same things that I just frowned on you about. Each and every day I catch myself in the act of being just like this.

Setting all this aside, let me tell you the real reason I brought you here (or I guess why you brought me to you). My head has been quite bothersome for me lately.

Yes. That is why I decided to write this. Though I am no writer I am still an artist. That is, I paint. Sculptures and objects, people and food. I’ll paint anything once. Though the constant flow of pain obstructs my happy nature and creative mind during this time and it discourages me.

My wife was worried about my state and she dragged me along to the doctor. The doctor was kind enough to not help me at all. He gave me advice that any brained human being would have done and my headaches still torment and eat at me.

So I was glad when my wife instead of another futile appointment suggested I write my problems down.

Like I made known earlier, I am no writer, so be patient with my incomprehensive words and long tangents.

Well I suppose I should tell you what I’m doing right now.

It might be weird but I like writing in silence with no worry of being interrupted, so I’m currently sitting in the woods typing out this documentation while I sip some tea (I refuse to drink coffee as it puts me to sleep within the hour and I hate to waste time with sleep, though my wife does worry about that). This will not be the main place I write as it’s a trouble to get here. I have an office so I will write there more than not.

***

Writing is not at all like how I thought it to be. I assumed it was a good way to write down all your thoughts so you aren’t groveling over problems you can’t fix all day. But I often pick up my laptop to write and find that my mind is quite blank yet I still worry over the day.

Since my mind is refusing to bring forth anything useful to write about I will tell you about what I am currently doing or just did more often. Right at this moment I’m waiting for my wife to come home, she said she has a surprise for me.

***

She did come home and what she brought with her surprised me. She brought me a fruit called Canna, as that is her name. She thought the similarity was humorous. I don’t much care for this joke, but I laughed, not wanting to displease her joy.

“I’ll eat it later dear, you can leave it in the fruit basket” I tell her. She is fine with this outcome and hums as she puts it away.

Well since my life is no more exciting than a cherry pit I shall bring up another topic.

I’ll talk about myself then ask you a question.

Though I have always loved the thought of traveling I never have actually done it. Stuck in place because of work and my wife’s (just like my mother’s) fear of flying. Have you ever traveled? If that answer happens to be yes then what was the reason for it?

…

Well I suppose there was really no point to that, was there? I can’t hear your answer and therefore can’t respond to it.

I have to apologize, my state hasn’t been the greatest. My headaches haven’t ceased for even a moment in the last week.

Maybe I’m not eating healthy enough.

My wife complains that I don’t eat enough and when I do it’s usually meat products.

Walking to the kitchen I grab my wife’s phone and make a call. Sitting down, I wait for my meal to arrive. Soon, very soon that is, it arrives, letting me know with a familiar dong of the doorbell. I take the food inside and shut the door with a decisive *click*

I pick the food up into my hand; a singular apple. Next I take a sharp blade and graze the apple with it, only passing through the skin.

I pick up my tweezers and peel the red layer free of the white crisp inside. I finish and pocket the crunchy outer peel of the once red apple.

I slowly bite into the sweet white flesh of the food. Smiling as I chew and savoring the flavour of my hard work. Though I do enjoy the outcome of such meticulous labour it does not please my taste buds. The flavour is revolting and makes me want to throw it up.

***

My wife gets home in the evening after I finish cleaning up. I decide that I should get some fresh air at my writing spot so I leave almost just as she gets home to head there. As I walk I realise the apple peel is still sitting in my pants pocket, so I pull it out and dispose of it as I continue to stroll.

***

I get home much later and change into something much more comfortable and sit down on my bed, my wife already fast asleep.

As I sit in the pitch dark silence as I ponder my day. Though it wasn’t the most productive day you might say, I would myself, call it satisfying.

Well I should sleep, staying up late is not good for my mental health.

***

My wife had work today so I must find a way to occupy myself from doing nothing.

Though I said my painting ideas had left me today, I painted a gorgeous piece. It had reds, pinks and peach colours as well as a small amount of blue.

It is my new favorite piece. Though I won’t show Canna. She does not usually take a liking to my paintings.

***

I stare at the fruit on the counter. Canna. It reminds me of my need to please my wife. Though for some reason it is so difficult to bring myself to eat it.

So instead of forcing myself to sit and watch something I can’t bring to eat I get up to have a walk.

Stepping outside the house I feel the cool autumn air kissing my skin. I push my feet off the ground one at a time as I walk.

I don’t know where I’m going but as I walk I feel as if I’m getting nowhere but away from my house.

All at once everything is happening, cars whizzing by, people walking by and none of these people even give a glance at me. So I join in with the others, walking the same direction they are and keeping my eyes down. Though not at my phone as most are,but just at the ground since I do not own one. I am not usually in the big city like this, my wife has lived in this type of place her whole life, so we bought a house together here.

I eventually found a store, stepping inside and wandering around. The truth is I didn’t come here for any reason but to get away from the house.

Keeping this thought in mind I amble around the store aimlessly.

Just strolling happily. My headache left yesterday. I suppose I should have informed you on this account.

This makes me feel very calm as I walk. Something catches my eye and my head spins at the vibrant fruit. “Dragon fruit” I read out loud. It looks very flashy.

Suddenly somebody bumps into my shoulder and scowls

“Don’t stand in the way” I hear him say as he keeps walking. I grab his shoulder, looking into his eyes with an expressionless face. He turns to me and makes another snide remark. I smile politely, as I confirm my suspicion. This man works in my wife’s office. I release him and bid him fair well though he doesn’t seem too pleased as he walls off grumbling. I carry on with my leisurely stroll around the store.

***

Heading home has never felt so good. I bought a dragon fruit, wanting to try it. I step back inside my house, feeling the warm air hit me like a wave. This is nice.

So I put the fruit in the fridge and left it to stay fresh and cool there. Now I’m sitting and waiting for Canna to get home to me again.

***

I watch as my wife walks through the doorway of my house. She sighs and hangs up her coat.

I hugged her from behind “long day?” She smiles and nods “long day.” Said she, following up with “I’m going to take a shower, okay?” I release her, allowing her to go do as she pleases.

As soon as she’s out of view I grab her bag and search through it as quickly as I can, I find what I’m looking for. That man’s address, on her work account they seem to have documentation of these kinds of things. As I hold this information in my hand the realization hits me of my throbbing headache. I almost feel dizzy at the pain, though these headaches have plagued me for a long time, so it doesn’t surprise me that it was kept in my subconscious.

***

I quickly leave and get to his house, I know he’ll be home.

As I get there I see his wife (I’m assuming she’s his wife at least as she kisses him and leaves the room, presumably to their bedroom).

I sneak in ever so quietly through the window that was, to my luck, unlocked and in the back. Slow, so very slow that at times even I wondered if I was moving. This all done to not startle anyone in the house to come looking for the source of my mistake.

Thankfully I’m not so mistake ridden and am instead very patient. So at last I got inside, not a single soul alerted of my presence.

I stalk into a room that I see fit (as it is empty except myself of course) and pull out the very thing I came here for. My dragon fruit.

Unlike the first fruit I ate, this one was not eaten with precision and delicacy. But fiercely and with more barbaric utensils; that is, my hands.

I pierce the thick skin with my nails, digging my fingers into the cool fruit. I am a bit disappointed that the inside is not as bright and flamboyant as the outside is. Though the juxtaposition is nice. Seeing the white fruit and the bright pink peel smear across my fingers as I dig in and eat my meal.

It might not look as bold but it’s taste is definitely something to talk about. Not that it’s good. Oh no not at all. Like the first, the fruit’s flesh is nauseating.

But I eat my fill and leave the mess on the ground for anybody that pleases can find.

My exit is swifter this time, now worried more about time then silence.

***

I quickly got home and washed up, as my meal was not exactly what most would call “clean”. Then I get into my bed, laying there looking at the ceiling for a long time before I feel my headache fading and that is when I fall asleep.

***

Today was another full day of painting, and the next day and the day after that. I spent three days painting on and on with almost no rest. My wife is worrying but I’m too focused on the image forming in front of me to have any sort of concern.

Finally I finish the piece, it’s… it’s all I wished to make.

The realism pops with some cubism sides. Though always more real than not. It might look like a picture if it was not altogether absurd.

I feel a slight headache coming on and something hits me that should have a long while ago. Each time I eat a fruit in such a ludicrous manner it temporarily cures my splitting headache.

What a funny thought.

I set down my paint brush over top of my pale grey cup of water. Standing up I walk into the kitchen, looking at the Canna fruit, sitting right there. The cure to my headache that is steadily growing less tolerable.

I reach out my fingers gently wrapping around the fruit, it’s small and a reddish purple colour. My wife had told me it was like a coconut, there is a sort of sweet liquid inside with a hard shell.

As my skin lands upon the hard layer of crust, it’s mostly smooth except a couple random juts over it. It’s not perfectly circular, nor is it a wonky shape. It’s sort of mango shaped but smaller and slightly more of a circle.

I take my razor sharp switchblade forth from my pocket. Flicking it swiftly open. The fruit, as I expected, did not slip from my fingers. I don’t know what was going through my head quite at that moment but fruit can’t just leave your hands as it pleases.

The red globe in my palm stays completely still, as any inanimate object would.

I pull the blade close and as it sits on the surface, surprisingly it’s pretty easy to cut through, and I gently saw it open. After there is a big enough slit in the object I bring my lips to it, softly sucking the light blue foggy liquid into my mouth.

I smile at the taste, it’s a heavenly sweet and refreshing one. The other two fruits I ate repulsed me, but this… this is pure pleasure. It makes my knees weak, my hands tremble, and my lips quiver.

I drink my fill and pull away, leaving the left over back where I left it. Lying on my counter.

Now, with my head relieved I drag myself back to bed, falling asleep without any further disturbances.

The very next morning I take my fill once more, but I fill a small bowl, carrying it with me everywhere I go and sipping on it.

Do you remember the beginning of this little story? About anthropomorphism. The opposite of it is dehumanization, this is not as popular in people, though some do it. Though most of them are categorized as psychopaths.

The other thing I said at the beginning was that I don’t like fruit. Which is exactly why I haven’t eaten it since I was six years old.

Thank you Canna.