Fiction On Odyssey: The Lemon Tree
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Fiction On Odyssey: The Lemon Tree

a documentation of a deterioration

Fiction On Odyssey: The Lemon Tree
via Owen McGonigle

So I wrote another fiction piece. 'Twas inspired by a few thoughts had by myself, and my friends, while away in Greece over the winter. Shoutout to the lemon tree for actually being there.


I’ve spent the past couple of weeks dealing with a bunch of internal demons. Anxiety, worry, doubt, fear, and insecurities are bubbled up within me, all begging to burst out onto the scene.It was all a weird concoction of negativity; a strong mixed drink spiked with a drug to put you in a sorrowful sleep. The thing that made this such a big deal with how much these aspects never bothered me in life. I always flowed down the river of life peacefully, with hardly a bump along the way.

But then in you came. You made me happy; I won’t take that away from you. You found a way to make me happy, while also eating away at every positive thing in my being. Maybe it was your insecurities. Maybe you needed to take down my borders in order to make yourself feel better. Or maybe you didn’t know what you were doing. Even so, I became vocal. My words became outward in the hopes that maybe you would become considerate to the boy you were hurting. Things did get better for a while. I let your behavior slide, as a part of me thought I could overlook it until it went away. I was in Greece at the time. All the distractions in the world, and somehow you were the only thing on my mind.

I remember standing in a museum in Thessaloniki. It was nothing too grand, but with all the statues to keep anyone invested. We had Facetimed that morning. Things did not go as well as one would have hoped, and you left a bitter taste in my mouth. The walls of the museum caved in on me until I couldn’t breathe. My lungs stopped working as the statues around me began to move off of their platforms. They were circling me; they were coming for me.

But that’s when I saw the yellow and green: the lemon tree. It stood outside the window, perched just perfectly where the sunlight cascaded through the leaves. I could smell the crisp scent from the feet between us. The fresh scent. The fresh start. But there were several feet, and a whole window, between us. I couldn’t reach it yet. And I didn’t. While you left my mind for the few hours I was under it’s zesty intoxication, you would soon return. Cloaked under red hearts and crooked smiles, my killer had reemerged. The worst part is that I let you back in. I dug my own grave, and I must accept that blame for that.

I must thank my friends for stepping in for me. I thank them with all my heart. Without them, you would still be here, digging my grave, with me handing you the shovel. I am indebted toward my friends and the lemon tree; two things that reminded me of my self worth. Thank you.


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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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