What if we never make lemonade?

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Perhaps this seemingly outdated model of positivity propaganda is an abhorrent thought to me. Could this misapprehension have possibly sprung from my childhood naivety of the abysmal order that governs the world or from the numerous faux motivational posts trying to cajole my disinterested spirit? Either way, it hardly seems to me as something I would hold to heart for I’ve been through a lot of bitterness in life that seldom appears to possess lemonade making opportunities. Although I believe in a positive force in driving one’s life I hardly feel that it would be apt for us to cower behind a fabricated reality encompassing the sweet little bits that we want to hear and dismiss even the slightest bit of truth that escapes the relentless clutch we have on our own transient being. I probably know what you are wondering, “Why this repugnant attitude to such a trivial subject?”

I guess it all started when as every cliché movie plot line starts, during the tender age of 11 having a seemingly perfect life with my parents and younger brother. My story was an archetypal setting amongst brothers, we used to fight for the smallest of reasons yet if our parents decided to barrage us with accusations of our mischief we always had each other’s back. We were more than brothers, we were as they say two peas in a pod, though he was two full years younger than me his comprehension of the world and its’ various elements was in par with mine. He was this younger part of me that I couldn’t live without; he had this great personality that I hope to achieve one day. He would talk his way out of any situation and would have a smile, a candid smile that would make anyone fall in love with his childlike innocence, needless to say I was indeed proud and a teensy bit jealous of his panache and personality. We were so amalgamated that we would even finish each other’s sentences, In short we were inseparable. But I digress, my story takes place in a typical summer day and the scorching sun was relentless.

“We want lemonade”, my brother chimed as we walked along to a place that I still can’t recall. My parents decided to appease us and save their ears from our inquisitiveness lest they have to explain why the wheels on a cart move slower when it touches the ground. As we walked along, my brother and I decided to overtake any other pedestrian that dared to walk our way. We covered a lot of ground in this fashion and got separated from our parents. A slow dread stared to creep up our spine and we felt helpless in our vast and bustling city. Dread sunk into panic and subsequently a fight discerning the culprit for this predicament. It was a heated debate that reeled out of hand leading to an all out fist fight. But the real tie breaker occurred when I decided to use sneaky tactics to gain the upper hand. These led to a lot of name calling and even gross accusations of an earlier time. “I never liked you, never did and never will” I screamed; that was the final nail in the coffin, my brother ran bawling down the street and I enjoyed the victorious respite. This respite was short lived however as I observed the silhouette run off to the distance, the responsible side of me decided to mollify his scarred heart. Yet as I ran after him I could not keep up, he never really learned how to cross the road and eyes welled up with tears exacerbated his state. As time had stopped still, I could be but just a spectator in the ill-fated events that followed. He ran right into traffic, and I heard the ominous honk of a truck; and in a flash I no longer had a brother, I had been the architect of his demise. I could have very well have pushed him in front of the truck, I had killed my own brother. I saw my mother run from the distance bellowing and wailing upon seeing her child lifeless. But nothing could have prepared me for the unearthly cry from my normally stoic father and as he ran I saw something I would have never fathomed possible, I had made him cry. The funeral that followed was the longest ordeal in my entire life, though my parents blamed themselves, I knew what I had done. People came to pay their respects, and tried to soothe my tarnished soul. They said everything happens for a reason or a greater plan, but I just about had enough with life and its’ bitterness.

It was then that I realized the sad reality of life, the lies we tell ourselves to make ourselves feel better, the slogans we live by thinking that nothing can go wrong if we just have a positive outlook. I had enough; I realized that the lemon given to me was in no way to be made into lemonade, it was a grim reminder to my fault. There are times when we mustn’t elude the reality of our situation and try to change it to placate ourselves. Sometimes we just have to fight back, rebel against life, accept the lemons and move on trying to avoid any sort of lemon rewarding incidents. Or what I currently live by, when life gives you lemons, oppose life, say that you don’t want any damn lemons. Start a citrus farm that renders life’s lemons useless and watch as you have control of your own life and acknowledge that the lemons are yours and yours alone, no one to blame but yourself, and work forward knowing that you are the person in charge of your own fate. We control our fate regardless of our beliefs, we can change a lot in our lives, but we need to accept that we need to hold ourselves responsible for our actions.

TL; DR: when life gives you lemons, don’t make lemonade. Rebel (a bit like what you did if you just scrolled down to read only this); take control of your own life and don’t let the bitterness in your life cloud the sense of control that you possess.


– Logan Turner


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