The Vase

I can feel chaos is coming. I see this vast room and its four cold grey walls with no warmth or comfort to offer, one single small window sitting opposite a vase, for the world to peek through once in a while as a silent observer of the turmoil inside this hollow room. And in the corner is this vase, an umbrella covering its head revealing only the bottom half of its body. The world sees through this window to see if the vase is doing its job, fulfilling its purpose. The outside world whispers among themselves, speculating on the beauty that lies hidden within, waiting to bloom, and they say, "Look at the vase over there, always looking after its flowers from the harshness of the room. It's been years now, hasn't it, since we've left it alone to grow and come into its own. Just three months until that umbrella disappears, and then we'll finally see what it's truly made of. I bet it's something truly remarkable, don't you think? I mean, come on, after all, we gave it everything a vase could ever ask for, didn't we? It has to be something worth waiting for!"

But the truth is this vase is empty. It's hollow. Devoid of any life or purpose. What once held a promise now only has fear, fear of this chaos that’s coming its way. The vase has been so accustomed to deceit, it has convinced itself of its own lies. Don't blame it so harshly; it doesn’t know any better, at least not anymore. The vase thinks to itself, “What are they looking at? Don’t they realize, don’t they see that I am a fraud, an imposter? The world, although observant, is oblivious to the storm brewing within these walls. They see only what they want to see. But I know the truth. Oh, what will I do after these 3 months end? Maybe one of these days all will be too much, and I will break! Ah yes, I'll break, maybe I'll break within these 3 months. That’s now the best option for me. I would rather break than be seen for what I am! Truly, I would. Whoever put me here, I beg, I beg, take pity on me. Either break me or make me fruitful, give me purpose, for I do not see mine. What have I done these past few years? I knew this day would come, but what did I do? Nothing. Sat in a corner and saw my life go by. Alas, what choice do I have! I feel it coming, I do. I feel the chaos from all the world's eyes, I know this feeling all too well. It is fear, and I know it! Please let me break…please” the vase sees the world pass by the window, the weight of their expectations bears down on it. Oh how strong it looks from the window’s eye, how firm. The vase starts crying, silently so the world doesn’t see. “Oh what's the point, even my tears are dry now. I am a fraud, a lie woven so beautifully that even I began to believe it. But it's all crumbling, I know it, I feel it coming, the chaos that threatens to consume me whole. It lurks in the corners of my mind, whispering doubts that I have run from for years now. It's threatening to break through and expose me for what I truly am. How can one be so tainted but so empty at the same time?”

As I gaze upon this empty vessel, I cannot help, but feel a kinship with its plight. Only to realize, I am the vase, the umbrella of lies that have shielded me from judgment and from a mother's tears will soon disappear as I am the empty vessel that once held a promise but now lies barren and desolate. And like the vase, I too feel the chaos coming, a storm that threatens to consume me whole, what’s left of me anyway. The empty shell of a woman that once was.