The whole morning she was unhappy with herself. Something was missing. It kind of went through the whole start-of-the-day routine. First of all, the pillow had escaped over the night. Now her neck hurt because she was only lying on the mattress. Waking up, everything ached and her neck was happily cracking.
How she wished to be someone else.
Next, the shower just completely ignored her need of warm water. It just would not get warm. Also, the shampoo was empty. “Why do I even shower then”, she thought while drying her hair. And this continued for the whole morning. The toast was soggy, the butter too hard, the crunchy cereal too soft. The wind too strong, the sun hiding behind clouds. The people too grim, her boss too happy. Oh how she wished to be someone else that day.
But still, she was missing this little something. Maybe a feeling, inside her. Rumbling, churning her stomach.
He represented his kind with all the pride he had. A little deformed but full of elation. Some say, you are stronger in a group. Here, he was in one but this little guy could have easily filled the role by himself. He was put into this little bread just this morning. He had a good position, just sitting on the outside on top of the bread. He could see everyone coming in, going by the baked goods aisle. He did not wish to be picked by someone special, he was just proud to be representing his kind, the raisins.
She was on her way to get lunch when she passed the deliciously smelling breads. For a moment, her stomach stopped murmuring. “Maybe that´s what I need?”. She picked the bread and put it into a paper bag. Happy to have the chance to brighten her day, they both were happy when she approached the cashier. She paid and sat down in front of the supermarket. Full of hope she took the first bite.
“Ewww. That´s raisins.”
Oh how he wished to be someone else.
This is not how his story ends. For he was not being eaten, only his colleague. He leapt of the bread and watched her throw away the bag.
“No, I do not want to be someone else. I am a raisin. I am the unloved version of a grape. Who are you to judge? You have not been pressed and dried. You are standing there, full of water and all those disgusting fluids that you need to survive. I have surpassed life. I am non-perishable. Who are you to judge my taste. You will loose your water, then we can talk about who is disgusting. I will not stand for this as long as the raisins are discriminated.
Wish to be someone else because I will not.”