Life keeps handing me lemons

Nobody takes the time to search for my cozy little out-of-the-way lemonade stand anymore (admittedly, I was never very good at marketing it in the first place.)

Sure, it may not be the newest or flashiest stand in town, but I’m proud of the fact that I built it myself (with no training in the field of lemonade stand building.)

I gave it a few minor renovations over the years, but it never seemed to make a difference in terms of lemonade consumption.

People visited because they wanted my world-famous gourmet lemonade.  The stand was merely a means of letting people know I had lemonade available – always 100% natural & made with REAL passion, hope and good intentions.

Initially, the onslaught of  lemons was a blessing because making lemonade made me happy and it made lots of other people happy too.  My lemonade used to sell briskly and I even ran out of lemons several times. 

I regularly donated some of my profits to charities that battle citric cancer, a devastating disease that affects 200,000 and kills 40,000 lemon trees annually.  It felt nice to be able to “ade” the community in that way.

My neighborhood is now littered with the garbage of corrupt lemonade vendors who have stolen my signage and tried to capitalize on partial recipes that were clearly obtained from my once-successful lemonade stand.

The lemonade industry has become cheapened with mass-produced, artificially-sweetened lemon water containing unnatural ingredients like lies and lemony tears that were obviously extracted from tissues found in MY garbage.  

I’d leave if I could, but I have nowhere else to go.

I’m destined to make lemonade…but what’s the point if nobody wants it?

Dear Life,

The lemons were nice at first (did you get my thank-you note???) but now they’re piling up rather quickly, don’t you think?  What I thought was a gift has turned into some giant practical joke to you.

Not cool, Life. It’s apparent that there’s some sort of crazy surplus on these things, and you have nothing better to do than torture me with them.  Real classy.

I am now refusing lemon deliveries on a daily basis for your entertainment.

You gave me common sense and a creative outlet, then told me to follow my dreams. 

I worked hard, helped others, and found a way to make an honest living doing something that was perfectly suited to the life of anxiety, trust issues, irrational fears, and traumatic experiences you also gave me.

I even took your advice and starting offering limeade.

Life, you hired me for a temp job that you knew was being phased out.  You left no instructions. Do you know how horrible that feels?   I have no clue what I did to deserve this.

Please stop with the lemon thing. At least switch to kiwis or something smaller to delay the drowning process a little longer.