The Apple Jam

Every day, a particular something reminds me of apple jam.

I wouldn’t say I like apple jam, but I buy it quite often.

I am not good at making it myself.

Cooked apples give me the creeps.

All right, I admit it, I buy it for the cute jar it comes in.

It looks good sitting next to the bottle of ketchup in my kitchen cabinet.

I like ketchup.

Though nothing reminds me of ketchup much.

Except for blood.

Gosh, I wish I could love the blood-red apple jam that tastes nothing like ketchup!

I hate myself for treating it the way this world treats us sometimes.

Hating us for the things it cannot control about us.

Measuring us against those it deems perfect!


Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

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