I feel like a chipped china teacup.
Still useful for the everyday cuppa, but definitely not something you allow the guests to see.
So much of what I have experienced and seen in life has left deep scars in me, that others appear to have only been scratched by if any mark has been left on them at all. I cannot understand why I feel so deeply and think so intensely, when it serves no purpose in enriching my life.
It only makes me hurt some more.
Where once I was deemed to have so much potential – inspiring others to do, be and try; my persona has now faded to a battered, odd-patterned piece of crockery that is relegated to the back of the kitchen cupboard and only brought into the light when the need for practicality outweighs beauty or pride.
The teacup that is remembered only in a social emergency.