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Ramblings: The plate and the soul.


Today I dropped a plate in the Kitchen and it was broken into small pieces. Usually when I drop anything, you are left with broken pieces of different sizes. However, this is not what I am going to talk about.
I was sweeping the shattered pieces of glass. It was obvious it can never be fixed, ever. I didn’t know if I swept it all, or there are other pieces that sneaked under the table or whatever. It was just some useless tiny pieces of glass that I can do nothing with but throw away. After all, it was the plate, broken but still. I know it was. Then I started to think of us, humans. How we get broken into pieces and manage to collect them all together just to survive. It’s more complicated when it comes to us. It’s not about being broken; it’s about how our pieces are all intangible but we manage to find them (maybe we don’t and would never again, but we seek them). It’s even harder that we have to fix those pieces, by ourselves. Nobody will sweep you, nobody will put you up again.
We don’t just get broken; we get torn apart, literally. Some pieces never fit in their places anymore as if they don’t belong to your own Puzzle. It changes you. You don’t remain a plate; you change into many other different things. You can be a monster, insecure, depressed or whatever you soul decides to make you.
I am positive that while I was sweeping the plate, I have missed some pieces in corners or whatsoever. It reminded me of what people take from us. We tend to give everyone, who usually ends walking away, a piece of us till we are filled with gaps. Those gaps are along with the ones caused by little parts which no longer fit.
With all of these gaps and openings, I wonder what we really become. We still manage to cope. The plate is thrown away to get recycled by many process. But us, humans, don’t have that. We get up by ourselves; feel the air into our souls’ holes, watch the wounds bleeds till they become scars. We stay in our mothers’ wombs alone, we think alone, get depressed alone. We share many other little things, but at the end, you just die alone and nobody will be able to save you. We will lie under one ground, but it wouldn’t matter because loneliness will always be there, filling those gaps. It’s a benefit actually. We just get used to it and that’s what makes us human.
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