I guess you can say, that I’m a bad seed. Variegated patterns, speckles and splotches, each an imperfection ingrained, with uneven ripening, the puke-green of fake, internalised beliefs, and the worst of all, the sour aftertaste of what one thought would be sweet. But then again, I grew from the seed of a fruit just as bitter, and that grew from another and another… I guess you can say that I’m a bad seed. Maybe not just this seed, but each and every one that came before me. Maybe someday, these bitter seeds grow into something new.