How are you? I hope this letter finds you when you are less focused on your own self. You might not believe what happened recently. I was bought from a store and was packed in a beautiful paper before I was presented to a friend—a girl friend. Today, for the first time in my entire life, I felt like my life has some meaning, like I exist. I was not only presented as a gift, but as a necessity, an integral part of a household. I was introduced as a helper, a carer, a less talked-about blessing.
Today reminded me of what I meant for you when I was once a part of your house, how you treated me. I still remember you bought the cheapest of my kind, and not only had you bought me in Pink color, but on top of that you put me in your own washroom. That too reminded me of what a hypocrite you were, while I was a witness of all your patriarchal conversations with your wife.
Pink! Okay, so you like this color? But remember how you made fun of your wife whenever she wore this colour? I still remember how you bullied her for her dark skin. I have seen her sobbing in the washroom so many times. Do you have any idea how you made her feel? However, she always looked beautiful. I wish you could see her from my eyes; her face, her brow, her curves, everything. And whenever she took a bath, her wet locks would fall on her shoulders and she would look like a Goddess. But you could never see anything beyond your short sight just like you never looked at me.
You always used me in need—When you had the urge to go—you would carry me and keep me close, use me and once you were done, you would put me away and never look back. I was left alone in your dark washroom only to tremble at night. I waited for morning, so some one can come and pick me up. It was miserable, and I was so happy when you threw me away in the garbage. From there I was taken to a recycling centre where I was transformed into a beautiful sprinkling can. I live in Allen's house now. She takes good care of me, washes me everyday, and likes me a lot.
Today I heard Allen talking over the phone about some Coronavirus. She said due to that virus outbreak, people are anxious and are buying stuff in frenzy. She told her friend that there is no toilet paper left in the market, so she might switch her ways and start using me to wash herself instead. I was terrified when she said that. I love being a watering can, and I want to be it forever. I don't want to spend lonely long nights in a dark washroom. I don't want to go back to a life of social isolation.
There was also some show on TV in which some bearded men were boasting about me? They were chanting how they survive without a toilet role. You must be going through the same phase right? Boasting and chanting about your faith. But when I was with you, you could never see me, or appreciate me. Those men were saying that I am all sold out on Amazon. I guess I just earned some value amid this chaos, so I really want to tell you that it doesn't matter if you wash or use toilet paper, what matters the most is to value what you have and appreciate it today. If you don't appreciate it, someone else will and you might not have that blessing by that time. I hope Allen can go and find something else to use in rest room too, so I can stay a watering can forever. I am scared of being less appreciated again.
Insincerely yours,
Ex-LOTA
Today reminded me of what I meant for you when I was once a part of your house, how you treated me. I still remember you bought the cheapest of my kind, and not only had you bought me in Pink color, but on top of that you put me in your own washroom. That too reminded me of what a hypocrite you were, while I was a witness of all your patriarchal conversations with your wife.
Pink! Okay, so you like this color? But remember how you made fun of your wife whenever she wore this colour? I still remember how you bullied her for her dark skin. I have seen her sobbing in the washroom so many times. Do you have any idea how you made her feel? However, she always looked beautiful. I wish you could see her from my eyes; her face, her brow, her curves, everything. And whenever she took a bath, her wet locks would fall on her shoulders and she would look like a Goddess. But you could never see anything beyond your short sight just like you never looked at me.
You always used me in need—When you had the urge to go—you would carry me and keep me close, use me and once you were done, you would put me away and never look back. I was left alone in your dark washroom only to tremble at night. I waited for morning, so some one can come and pick me up. It was miserable, and I was so happy when you threw me away in the garbage. From there I was taken to a recycling centre where I was transformed into a beautiful sprinkling can. I live in Allen's house now. She takes good care of me, washes me everyday, and likes me a lot.
Today I heard Allen talking over the phone about some Coronavirus. She said due to that virus outbreak, people are anxious and are buying stuff in frenzy. She told her friend that there is no toilet paper left in the market, so she might switch her ways and start using me to wash herself instead. I was terrified when she said that. I love being a watering can, and I want to be it forever. I don't want to spend lonely long nights in a dark washroom. I don't want to go back to a life of social isolation.
There was also some show on TV in which some bearded men were boasting about me? They were chanting how they survive without a toilet role. You must be going through the same phase right? Boasting and chanting about your faith. But when I was with you, you could never see me, or appreciate me. Those men were saying that I am all sold out on Amazon. I guess I just earned some value amid this chaos, so I really want to tell you that it doesn't matter if you wash or use toilet paper, what matters the most is to value what you have and appreciate it today. If you don't appreciate it, someone else will and you might not have that blessing by that time. I hope Allen can go and find something else to use in rest room too, so I can stay a watering can forever. I am scared of being less appreciated again.
Insincerely yours,
Ex-LOTA