The funchasia shell screams out ‘Touch me! Eat me! Devour me!’ You are excited. You are faced with something new, exotic and god damn it you want it. You have no idea what you are doing so you lunge in and smother your sticky paws all over it. Ecstasy blinds and deafens you. It’s only at the moment that you are licking the excess juice that has dribbled off your face that you realise the pain. You look down and you see it. You look at the bright beautiful shell you once saw and you finally see it. Microscopic nettles. The nettles have punctured your hand and have caused you pain. This was my first experience of the prickly fruit (AKA Rambutan) and it was magical just like my first experience of desire and lust. 
The prickly fruit story is much like everyone’s first heart break: you take risks, give in to your inner desires, selectively see what you want and you break eventually. End of. However, that’s not quite the end, as now that the ecstasy of your uninhibited decision has disappeared, you are left with the excruciating physical pain (this is the emotional baggage). The pain from the nettles. Pain from those little things you didn’t see. You feel foolish. 

Some people spend hours pulling the nettles out. One-by-one they go through and make right the scars of their impulsive moment. It takes time, dedication and strength to do this. At this time, it’s advised to refrain from reaching out and grabbing another exotic fruit. That would only make the nettles already in your flesh dig deeper. I personally find the digging of the nettles useful as it makes the physical pain more real: it makes the physical match the intense emotional pain. Others leave the nettles in and endure a longer lasting pain. They don’t ever move on. They become the victim of the very first prickly fruit they ever had. They go on to taste other fruit but with dulled senses. They live in a dark place filled with prickles but no fruit. 


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