Saturday, April 11, 2020
Forbidden Fruit free essay sample
Of all lifeââ¬â¢s wild flavors, Iââ¬â¢ve learned to savor each taste, touch, and smell, however lovely or horrid, Iââ¬â¢d love nevertheless. There are the spices, fire burning in me, my reckless passion for adventure; challenges I can never refuse. The saccharine honey, sticky in its grace always to be eminently inspiring, to be the novelty moments I cherish; the irreplaceable memories Iââ¬â¢ll never forget. Then there are the bittersweets, callous and murkyââ¬âhazy in its stupor, its tantalizing mystery; I wouldnââ¬â¢t get to taste until the repercussion, chilling me to my bones bit by bit. The bittersweets have always been the most life changing, the most haunting. I began to appreciate its cruel taste after the end of sophomore year when I learned how to be grateful. It was the bruised reality of dark flavored fermentsââ¬âI learned how life was exceptionally fragile. The car accident for one, during sophomore year, the moment my mom flipped our SUV down peri meter road. We will write a custom essay sample on Forbidden Fruit or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page I remember breathing silence, the rolling of the car far away, and the frozen road ahead glaring back at me. From waves crashing and slapping my insides, Iââ¬â¢d be too numb to scream, too numb to hear the snaps and the crunch beneath my head. Then the violent, colourful hashes of glimpsed faces behind closed doors that Iââ¬â¢d wake under a hot blue sky, a throbbing head to the ambulances cries and motherââ¬â¢s ââ¬Å"Im sorry, so sorryâ⬠¦Ã¢â¬ Her eyes like sea glass, eroded and jaded. My sophomore year had been the most eventful, a thundering maelstrom of all different kinds of flavors. From the bittersweets, the exotic, the sour, to the succulent sugars, Iââ¬â¢ve savored each, and by junior year I realized that I craved to feel every flavor, to breathe it in, soak it up and taste its wisdom with stretched out hands; Iââ¬â¢ll never want anything more. To fear nothing but the tasteless normality, it had occurred to me that life was short, too short. Iââ¬â¢v e become filled with compassion for the world: its nature, its history, its people, its cultures, and the love Iââ¬â¢ve seen in even the darkest of places. By senior year I found myself having affairs with words, realizing the writer in me, the artist fully bloomed, and it shaped my character indefinitely. I was inspired by the tiny moments in life I learned to be the most grateful about. The moments that came like magic, too quick to capture on film, too quick to rememberââ¬âand the vivid image of time had always been ticking, never enough; I wanted to fill each minute in caramel riches, to its full sweet, sweet potential. I know life is filled with colors Iââ¬â¢ve never seen, words Iââ¬â¢ve never heard, like the forbidden fruit dangling just a bit out of reach. It calms me knowing its mystery will in the end unfold to me, as long as I keep chasing it.
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