I likened myself to a glass - initially boxed and ready to be opened. Element of surprise is always there as I try to unravel myself. Like a glass, I start out as clear and just waiting to be of use, to be filled and be cleaned after. In the process I am filled with all sorts of things. And all of them serves purpose, makes reasons. There are times when milk is filled in. It represents the times of innocence, purity and youth. It lets me live life as simple as it may be. Everything seems just so simple yet so nice. But not all times does my glass get filled by milk. Instances are it may be filled with water - hot, ice-cold, lukewarm or whatever type you may want to think of water. The sheer clearness of water pictures my life in those instances where there is peace, there is calmness. These are times when things are but normal, nothing extraordinary yet a part of what my life has been. Days may come that the glass is not used and kept to dust. Emptiness and somber embraces myself during these days. I have experienced quite a lot of these instances from people leaving me, people not loving me and people not wanting to love me. I felt so alone yet continue to expect and wish that the glass would be used again - to feel important and loved.
And then I realized a lot of things, every situation brings out a different purpose and serve a different reason. Yes, the glass from which I used to pour liquid is gone and broken but then comes the value of the broom and the dustpan. It just means that in even in my most down of times, I still serve a purpose and that is to bring out the value in others. When I was down, a lot of people stood by me and helped me through. They became stronger for me, my family, my friends and my loved ones. They never gave and up and held on. And from these people, few would rise up and become inspirations. The glass may be broken but there might be things to be done. My family served as the glue that did patch each broken piece together. My friends became the designs and decorations full of colors that made up for the cracks. And my belief in GOD served as the flowers. The glass may be history but after putting all pieces together and decorating and adding wrappings on the patched up glass, a new one was born. Not a glass anymore but a vase. One that can be filled with flowers to serve as joy-bringers and inspiration to others.