Apple vs Orange

Apple or orange? An apple or an orange? I wake up every morning with the same dilemma. Here I am again, do I eat the apple or do I eat the orange? This is quite a simple decision, it’s not life-changing in any way, shape, or form. In theory, it is supposed to be such an easy choice, but I just cannot decide which one to eat. I am standing here with both fruits in front of me. Apples are good, oranges are also good. I like both of them. I have eaten three oranges this week and only one apple. There is only one orange left so I will save it and I will eat the apple this morning. The apple was a solid apple, it tasted good, I am not really sure why I’m describing in detail how good my apple was when no one really cares. It was a really good apple though, it had a good crunch, was juicy, it was the perfect apple. I definitely made the right choice. I ate the apple on the way to school, it was cleaner than the orange would have been to eat in the car. I sat there eating my apple wondering why I cared so much about it. I went through my entire day contemplating why I was trying to dive deeper into my apple vs orange choice. I tend to over-exaggerate the simplest things in life. In between my sixth and seventh period I got a call from my mother. I actually got three calls but I did not see the “incoming call” until the fourth call. I answered and said hello, when she started to take I heard her voice shaking, and what she told me sent a chill down my spine. She told me that my brother had been taken to the hospital. The fear in her voice was terrifying, I had never heard my mother so scared. I could tell she was trying to be strong for me. Just a few minutes later, the longest, most stressful minutes of my entire life, I got a pass saying that I could leave, I bolted from the classroom to my car, out of breath I started to drive. I left my seat belt off in a quick panic and I’m sure I drove at least ten miles over the speed limit to the hospital. I sat in the hospital waiting room, a painfully white room with incredibly uncomfortable chairs, and even more uncomfortable silence. I felt nauseous, I felt helpless. My weak nine-year-old brother was lying unconscious in a hospital bed. He was lying unconscious in a hospital bed and there was nothing I could do to help him. I sat with him, he likes the quiet so I did not talk, I just sat, holding my poor brother's hand. I considered singing him his favorite songs but it hurt too much knowing he could not sing along. I thought about reading him his favorite book but I knew I wouldn't be able to hear him laugh at his favorite parts. I tried to comfort him in any silent way that I could. A couple of hours later I said to him, “I love you and I’m sorry” and I slowly went back to the cold waiting room. Yet again I sat in uncomfortable silence trying, wanting to be strong for my parents, I knew he would be okay. I thought he would be okay until I heard the sound of, what felt like, hundreds of nurses and doctors running. “Code Blue” followed by a bunch of numbers, my brother's room numbers. The hospital failed my brother, but I failed him first. He didn’t even get to live a decade of his life before a stupid food took it. I felt as though bricks of regret fell onto my body because I made the wrong decision. My brother had an allergic reaction to an orange, the only orange that had been left in the house, the orange that I moved aside so that I could eat the apple. He was home alone, he had stopped breathing. If I had just chosen the orange my brother would be alive. I would have a brother if I had not been the selfish idiot who ate the apple. That stupid fucking orange. The apple was not even good, was it? It was gross, I hate apples, I hate oranges. I hate that my brother’s breaths were taken. I hate that it’s inherently my fault that he won't make it to double digits. This is all my fault. I want to go back, I need to go back. I hate this. My decision did not just take the life of the best little boy on this planet but also destroyed my parent’s lives. Let me change my choice, I didn’t know. It was supposed to be such a small, simple decision. If I could just go back, if I could just change the past, just to this morning. Please. I promise that if I can just go back I will never eat another apple again, I promise that I will repent from all my sins. I don’t even want to see an apple or an orange again. Please take me instead, he deserves to live a life, he deserves the world. I took that from him. I am sorry, I am so sorry, let me fix it. I don’t know whether or not I want to punch a wall or sob in a corner, I probably will end up doing both, multiple times. I can hear my parents sobbing in between my own sobs. I unknowingly took their child from them and I can never ever give it back. I hurt my parents but they have no idea it was my fault. Is it my fault? Of course, it is my fault. I chose to leave the orange there, I chose the apple. Always choose the orange, the apple is not worth the risk.