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!

©Aaysid

Photo by cottonbro from Pexels