I never got lemons from life, because nope, life does not have the time to give you lemons. It sure has the time to cut them into two perfectly equal halves, find a squeezer, and squeeze them into your eyes and run away like a child darting his way into the safety of his home after having rang a victorious doorbell anonymously. But handing out gifts? Ain’t nobody got time for that!

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t wait around at a sulky table trying to find my share of opportunities. I grabbed at them, and even snatched. But right when it was my turn to make an escape, the load seemed too heavy to carry. I had to take breaks and when I got around to a safe resting stop, life caught up with me. She stared at me with the eyes of a scornful mother, scrutinizing my tantrum of having thrived to get what I thought I deserved. One hand on her hip, other outstretched, she demanded the lemons back before I even reached my kitchen to make lemonade.

Then there was the time that I sucked at the lemon as soon as I got it. I had to tear the peel with my nails till the juice teared me up. My cuticles stung and when I touched it to my mouth, all I got was squinting sourness with a bitter aftertaste (Oh! And a slap on the wrist from my beloved mother!) Life gave me lemons. I never got around to making lemonade. I think I never tried enough.

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