It bothers me sometimes when I have nothing to do and my mind wanders off to seemingly harmless things but some of them are conspiring little bastards that take root in me… one such thought is keeping me awake today… the day was a pretty mundane one and I hoped to call it an early Friday and catch up with my sleep… but my mind has a wish of its own it seems and in the midst of this mundanity it began to wander off to think of “broken things” of all the other things in the world!
What happens to the things that are broken? This seems to be such a simple question, but is it?
What really happened to that vase you broke when you were playing ball indoors and blamed it on the wind (the smart and lucky ones on the pet), and thought your mom believed the story (insider info : she never did!)? Things that you broke unintentionally, things that you wanted to break but could not get your hands on (some lucky bastard survived) and the things you broke so that you feel less broken inside?
Where do all those things go? What happens to the stories they had? Sometimes you cry over broken things and at others you break things that made you cry?
All things broken and lost or thrown… where are they? The question haunts me, what happened to the once loved teddy bear, that went through brutal scissors or the innocent jar of jam that slipped… Did they transform into something else and are around you somehow to haunt you(scary to be thinking of it in the dead of the night though!). The glass vase could now be the beach sand you so love… the teddy I have no idea!
All those gifts that end up broken after a breakup, all those broken memoirs of some once very dear friend whose name you now no longer remember, and those heart wrenching loved ones that slipped somehow into the space where all things break… all those have tiny parts of us embedded in them… Do we break a little with each? If so, how much of is left after all of it breaks? Can we use superglue to stick those pieces or some other glue perhaps?
I once had a beautiful little hanging bird thing which hung right above my bedside, I had loved it the moment I saw it… with time it got a little faded, and after a terrible wind it was all tangled, I tried a lot to untangle it, it seemed at first I could save it… but it was broken and I had to let it go to the place where all broken things go, hoping it could end up becoming the building blocks of some bird’s nest may be… I am sure it broke a piece of me with it when it broke, so now a part of me is where all broken things are and I can only hope its a beautiful place.