pineapple princess

There’s some pineapple juice in my fridge.
I haven’t opened it yet.
It’s not my cup of tea, to be honest [obviously it would be a cup of pineapple juice, but don’t blame me for any stupid set phrase there is, ok?].
But it’s there, waiting to be opened, I guess. That’s why it exists. To be drunk. But it won’t. Not anytime soon at least. And as I kept on staring at it this morning, it crossed my mind that it’s going to stay there, at the fridge’s self much more than I wished, or expected. It’s going to stay there longer than it should. Hopelessly waiting. While somewhere out there, glasses are going to be filled up with pineapple juice – but not my glasses and not with that particular juice.
Funny thing is I don’t have many things in my fridge. Mostly cold mineral water, some cheese, yogurt, fruits, a couple of smart drinks, butter, eggs… you know, bachelor’s stuff. But even when the fridge’s completely empty, the cardboard juice is there, still standing, still waiting, still “fresh” and unopened… Somehow, you could say it’s the guard of the fridge. It watches things, silently, patiently, in its own discreet way. It doesn’t interfere, it doesn’t cry out for attention. So I respect it for that. But even if I run out of water, even if I find myself thirsty as hell, even if someone promises me all the money in the world if I manage to drink it at once… I won’t.
Its place is there and… you know what? I plan on buying another one. And I’ll do that, as soon as I make sure that the original one won’t be thrown away. As you may have established by now, its purpose is to be consumed. My dear pineapple juice… you will and that’s a promise. But you don't want me to be the one who'll do the honors, right? We all know you can do better than that...