A glass. A cup of thin glass. A fragile cup of thin glass. Fill it with boiling oil. How much will it take? Will it hold it? Or will it shatter into a thousand pieces? If it will hold then for how long will it hold? How long before it shatters? How much can this fragile glass cup take? It is just a matter of time before the heat from the oil becomes unbearable and shakes the glass down to its molecular level. And when it breaks, the small pieces will become dozens of small knives. Small knives so sharp that it will slice through skin and bone alike. But if the glass were alive and had a soul, will it be able to stop itself from breaking? Can it try to stay so strong that the heat doesn't affect it? The unbearable heat from the oil. Don't fill it further. It is enough. It is not strong enough. It cannot take it anymore. Show some mercy. It is a glass meant to hold only water. A gentle glass meant to sparkle under the light of the mighty chandeliers on a silk runner of an oak table. The glass is not meant to take the atrocities of the boiling oil. Not anymore. It cannot hold it in any longer. You filled it to the brim without mercy and keep filling it fresh hot oil.
Monday, March 18, 2013
That Fragile Glass Cup...
A glass. A cup of thin glass. A fragile cup of thin glass. Fill it with boiling oil. How much will it take? Will it hold it? Or will it shatter into a thousand pieces? If it will hold then for how long will it hold? How long before it shatters? How much can this fragile glass cup take? It is just a matter of time before the heat from the oil becomes unbearable and shakes the glass down to its molecular level. And when it breaks, the small pieces will become dozens of small knives. Small knives so sharp that it will slice through skin and bone alike. But if the glass were alive and had a soul, will it be able to stop itself from breaking? Can it try to stay so strong that the heat doesn't affect it? The unbearable heat from the oil. Don't fill it further. It is enough. It is not strong enough. It cannot take it anymore. Show some mercy. It is a glass meant to hold only water. A gentle glass meant to sparkle under the light of the mighty chandeliers on a silk runner of an oak table. The glass is not meant to take the atrocities of the boiling oil. Not anymore. It cannot hold it in any longer. You filled it to the brim without mercy and keep filling it fresh hot oil.
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It's kind of strange how clearly I can understand your emotions through this post. I really like the metaphor you're conveying here. I feel the same way sometimes.
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