lonely and blue. I choose and force myself to see things beautifully because I don't want to be engulfed in this pit that has always lived inside. I can only see things as beautiful because
first I saw them ugly, and in learning to accept the ugly I found beauty.
There's something heartbreaking and inspiring about kintsugi, how the veins of running gold embrace the teacup like a web of scars, proudly showing the teacup's cracks as a badge of honor.
The teacup could have been a rare and precious thing before, part of a perfect set, the kind people save only for most celebrated guests. Then it shatters. And the gold comes. So the teacup
is alone, like the others but its differences so distinct. Unique in its own way. How could I not get past the ugly when I crave to be mended into my own thing too?
Yet, I'm scared of shattering. Were I a teacup, I wouldn't let anybody hold me, afraid of that second that seems so slow, as I felt my wings slipping from the fingers and I know I'll hit
the ground. That is the single second I fear the most. I'm okay with the fall. Once it happens, there's not much I can do but enjoy my last few seconds of integrity knowing exactly how my
end will meet me. There's confort in knowing. Which just makes that single second all the more hateful, as it's the last second I can let myself think everything is fine, that I'll just
keep on being a teacup sitting on the shelf or resting in somebody's hand. So I'd rather sit on the shelf, even though the tea is nice and warm, wouldn't it be safer on the shell? To be
forgotten on the shelf? Part of a perfect set, just a pretty little thing. But the shelf is boring and there's not much to see, I now the sights by heart. To not be distingued is upsetting.
So here I remain, a teacup hanging in that last second where I can let myself believe everything will be fine, wether I shatter or not, longing for cracks, afraid of the floor.
If I myself am such a confused, hateful, pretty little messy thing, why wouldn't I find even the weirdest of things to be beautiful? I have no choice if I'm meant to survive in my own skin.
