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a bite of chocolat... ::home:: A place for my thoughts and ideas, my creative outlet, a little piece of the web for me to call my own...yeah...right... |
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![]() Friday, January 02, 2004 Reaching into the kitchen cabinet of glasses and mugs, I found myself flinch away from the tall, cylindrical glass that I had been using often these past few weeks. I guess it's because the last time I used that glass, it was at a post holiday dinner with some family. I knocked over the glass with my arm, spilling orange juice all over my plate, my chair, the dining room floor. I didn't react emotionally, I simply cleaned up the orange juice. After all it would be pointless to cry over spilled orange juice... but I caught myself thinking for a moment, "One more reason that I'm worthless..." I laughed then. Spilled orange juice, who the hell cares? But I couldn't really shake the miserable feeling of having more evidence of why I should not exist for at least a minute or two. At the time, the spill seemed to amplify the significance of every little detail. I felt insulted that only one person stood up to help me clean up. There was a shrug and a comment that the glass was worthless because it was taller than normal glasses, surely unstable. Since I rather like that glass, I felt even more insulted. I had forgotten all of that probably not too long after. Tonight, reaching for a glass, I remembered the spill and thought, "It really is just a glass." No one got up to help because the spill wasn't important. I didn't remember the spill because it was not important. It doesn't matter which glass I take because it's not important. And it would be stupid to conclude that therefore, I, myself, am unimportant. Since then both my sister and my dad have spilled things which I have helped clean up. I guess I just can't help but see the significance of the little things. posted by Shannon | 3:11 AM |
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