onion

i feel like an onion. layers of me are being peeled away bit by bit, and it hurts.

i don't like onions much, but i'm imagining how they must feel whenever a pesky human being is manipulating them. seriously, you're living your quiet onion existence in the produce section, when boom! next thing you know, you're skinned alive, sliced with a blade, or thrown in boiling oil.

the onion's revenge to its, uh, peeler, is making the latter shed tears. in my case, though, it's not my peeler who's shedding tears. it's me. my revenge is backfiring. my own scent is making me cry.

 

//edit: being an onion isn't so bad after all.  cos after you're peeled, you're a brand new skinless and juicy you.