Suppose we're to play a game, ' Fruit Basket,' and players will be named after fruits.
You - pear.
you- appple.
You- strawberry

and so it goes on..

and then when it comes to you, they said.
you- onigiri. (riceball)

and subsequently, names of fruits are being called to join the game. Strawberry, pear... and everyone's called. Except for the onigiri, who's just sitting there, waiting patiently for hers to be called.

Except, it'll never be.

Outsider

And suppose, we are all onigiris. And we never know, that we have our own plums inserted in our backs- we dont know, and we constantly envy others, wow, how nice their plums are. I see plums in others, and yes, it feels hurting when you dont even know you actually have a plum, and yes, it does feel hurting because you've always seen yourself ugly, inside and out.

Someday, suppose i am an onigiri, i wish for someone to tell me how nice my plum is, and tell me i'm beautiful.

):

a few more days, few more days, i don't know how i should feel.
Exhausting myself out with work only makes me feel more hollow, and i told no one except mr jiraiya* ( none of you will know this person anyway, except for me ) .

For some reason i do not know, his consolation makes me feel better at times, maybe because i've never really looked at things from his point of view, maybe, or maybe because it is indeed some comfort, some solace, some truth i've confessed, some facades off.

i dont mind being a rice ball, it is okay, maybe i'll never belong to that basket of fruits, but maybe, i'm not even supposed to be there. Maybe i still dont see my plum, if you see mine, will you tell me?

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