I’d like to be excused. This isn’t fair. I shouldn’t be forced to eat this stuff.
Can I please have the next course? The main dish? Dessert? There’s gotta be something better than this.
I don’t care if this is going to help me grow. Make me stronger. Teach me a lesson.
It’s not fun. It’s hard. I’m too young for this. I’m too old for this. I should be able to pick what I eat. Create my own menu.
I’m stuck in this chair, at this table, with this plate staring back at me.
This is not what I thought it would taste like. This is not what I want it to be like.
It’s cold and getting old.
Apparently it’s the only thing I’m allowed to eat. I guess that means it’s what I need. What the Chef knows I need.
I keep fighting it. Trying to feed it to the dog. Hiding it in my pockets to throw out later – when no one’s looking.
I know. I should embrace it. Let it shape me. Realize this is just part of the growing process.
And I am. Well, not as well as I would like. But. I am embracing it. In my own way. Some days better than others. Sometimes I love the plate set before me. I see the next course clear as day. Sometimes, most times, I can’t stand the plate set before me. I see the next course clear as mud.
That’s life. With its unpleasant veggies.
That’s my life. With its unpleasant veggies.
So, I ask. May I please be excused?
Does it really matter if I eat this?
Except. I wonder. Will I miss out on the best parts? The parts that toughen me up and push me into who I need to be.
Yea. All right. I’ll try another bite.
Pass the ranch, please?
I ask. You answer.
- Ever feel like you’re never going to be excused?
- How do you handle the “broccoli” you are served?
- Why do we fight that which makes us stronger?
- How come we think we can deal with the hardships but when they come we wish they would go away – that dessert would be served?