It’s 1:06 a.m.
Two bananas down.
And I can’t stop thinking,
how little we’ve written
about one of the greatest fruits
to ever exist.
Not exotic.
Not expensive.
Just…
always there.
My first date
ended with Minions.
Everyone remembers
the yellow creatures.
I remember laughing
next to someone
who slowly became home.
Funny how
the word banana
still carries
a little of that evening.
Years later,
my stomach
decided to rebel.
Everything hurt.
Everything felt heavy.
Doctors said
eat light.
The world offered
complicated diets.
The banana simply replied,
“I’m enough.”
No preparation.
No cooking.
No waiting.
Just peel.
Eat.
Heal.
Students survive on them.
Athletes swear by them.
Grandparents trust them.
Children grow up with them.
Yet somehow,
they belong to everyone,
and to no one’s stories.
We turned them
into jokes.
Into emojis.
Into innuendo.
We say
“go bananas.”
We laugh
when someone slips
on a peel.
But almost never,
thank you.
Maybe that’s
the strange fate
of ordinary things.
The ones
that quietly carry us,
rarely become
the heroes.
We celebrate
what dazzles.
Not what stays.
Maybe that’s why
I wanted to write this.
Not because
it’s about a fruit.
But because
sometimes
the things
that ask for nothing,
deserve
to be noticed
the most.
Tonight,
at 1:06 a.m.,
I finished another banana.
And somewhere
between productivity,
nostalgia,
and a recovering stomach,
I realised—
some companions
don’t need introductions.
They just keep showing up,
exactly when you need them.