there's a little statue that Sam gave me a long time ago.
actually, there are two of them, a cellist and a violinist.
they were meant to represent me and him.
they are sad clowns playing instruments, and that pretty much sums up my whole life.
one day I got mad and threw something across the room without thinking that anything could break besides what I had thrown.
I used to love breaking shit when I got upset. my own hands included.
this time I threw something into the wall. but I missed.
I threw something and it hit my statue.
immediately I felt like even more of a dick for letting my anger ruin something else that I cared for.
I walked over to examine my statue and saw that I had wounded it. not only had I wounded it, but I had broken off his whole right arm and shattered the bow into pieces.
the statue now sits out of sight so that no one will see it and ask me how it broke, or why I never fixed it.
I leave reminders for myself in my life. reminders to be more caring. so not take people for granted. to not be an ass. to control my anger. to be better...
this statue is a reminder.
the thing is... I don't even remember what made me so mad that I had to break a gift from a friend that I lost around the same time.
the arm sits on the base of the statue with as many pieces as I could find, behind my lamp and an old gift that was returned to me. silent for the rest of my life.
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