oranges are not the only fruit

i can always see it so clearly, those paths that lead to so many other places. not just one straight road that leads to one crummy building - many many winding roads, each leading to their own landscapes. Elysian fields, seashores, metropolises, Neptune's watery realm - so many, all different. why is it that only i can see them all for what they are, not as paths leading to nowhere as you claim they are? why do you keep shoving me to that one boring cement road that's too straight, too safe, too unhuman? is it me, or is it you? we both talk, we both sing. i sing in A, you sing in F or whatever other key clashes with A - and our melodies never meet, never soar into a cresting melody. they clash, never meet, stay separate, always. why do you always fear the unknown, that which is not part of your world? i suppose that is perfectly normal, to be fair, but can you not see that what exists as truth in your world doesn't necessarily share the same stable status in mine? my world's full of pied colours, never garish and flat. i don't like primacy, it's too simple. perhaps you do. so why can't you understand that you and i are simply not the same person? i am me, and you are you. perhaps you never felt me really leave you when you gave birth to me - i am still a part of you, as much as i have your blood flowing in my veins.

but well, you should know that oranges are not the only fruit.