A long time ago, I was forced to take pottery in an art class in school. Now, I have massive disadvantages there, having very poor fine and gross motor skills and I am quite the klutz. And I remember the one piece of pottery I had to make... I remember it very well.
The assignment was to make a gargoyle. It was an assignment to which I should have gotten an F on, because that poor, pathetic excuse for a gargoyle that I created was a disgusting abomination before man. Even as a child, I knew it was garbage, and aptly named it "Shred, the factory accident".
My mother, however, decided to keep it. I wanted the opposite, to destroy that abomination. So she hid it. And she has hidden it all the years since. I hated that thing, that disgusting eyesore. Its existence clawed away at me, and dug into my brain like a drill. It tore me apart inside, just knowing it was still alive and well, and not a pile of ash and dust like it deserved to be. For many years, I fantasized about finding it and destroying it, so my mind could finally be at peace.
But my mother would never stand for it. She kept it well hidden and out of sight, in a dangerous to navigate basement. So all I could do is silently revile the repulsive monstrosity, hoping that one day, my mother would love me enough to destroy that horrible, horrible thing. For years, it has slowly chipped away at my soul, bashing to pieces every bit of strength left in my spirit, until it will one day, finally and at long last, make me a bitter, lifeless husk.
I hate that piece of pottery.
Topic: What's on your mind now?