Being with a person is like pottery. You create something someone else, you invest a tremendous amount of time. You decorate this nice little glass thing you’re creating. And it can really be whatever you need. See, not all human relationships are the same, and what is ideal for one, definitely is not for the other.

Take, for example, this friend I have. He always attracts younger girls, he is more than often attracted by girls a bit older than him, but for the life of me, he keeps complaining about this ex that will not talk to him and that any girl his age he’s tried something with has not exactly ended well.

But let’s move back to pottery, shall we? You invest all you have in this glass creature, this beautiful, hideous, weird, postmodern, surreal – I don’t care whatever it is, how long it took you or what other people think of it– thing. All that matters is that this new creation is yours, and you adore it.

And then comes another person, who will throw in on the ground, without so much as thinking about it.

And boy, it will shatter. It will turn to a thousand pieces and your heart will follow. What is the first reaction when something breaks? Can you remember what happened last time you broke something? I believe you took a step back. You were in shock. Your mind could not register what just happened. You still see the image, the idol of the pottery on the table, you still can’t believe the hands you worked with pushed it over the edge, tunnel vision has kicked in and there’s nothing you can do.

But you will react, won’t you? Next thing you’ll do will hurt more than anything. You’ll walk up to the shards, you’ll kneel next to them and you’ll pick them up with your bare hands. You will immediately attempt to assess the damage, bring in some superglue, heck even make the other person help you, and they’ll bleed too. Blood will make the pieces stick a little bit you know. If you’re lucky, you might find them all, and if you’re even luckier, you might be able to superglue them together.

See there’s this practice from an Eastern country, done to broken pottery. The process is basically the following; whenever something breaks, then they attempt to fix it. They embroider it with golden lines where the cracks are and this makes the whole pottery like new, it makes it more beautiful.

So, there’s always this alternative – but let’s be honest. That hardly ever works, does it? Almost no one will bleed for you, and the one that would never put you in that position in the first place. Or maybe they would; I am not one to judge. More than often though you’ll bleed alone. And you’ll bleed a lot, and you will never find all the missing pieces, and all you’ll think is why, and how, and all those w- questions that make the shards dig deeper into your skin.

So, for a change, try this.

Try to stand up. That will be painful too, most likely a sharp pain will go through your body because some parts will go deeper, and might stay there. But it’s all right. I know you’ll have some scars. But they’re alright too. They are part of you and you’re beautiful just the way you are. And the one that will sit again with you to make some pottery, the one who will not shatter what you will create together, will love those scars because they belong to you.

And all you are is amazing, maybe not perfect, but perfect to that one. And one is all it takes.

Author: Michael Poe

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