Open Your Eyes

I can recall a day where I was assisting my mom at her store at the mall, and, like usual, I helped out customers when I could. I saw customers approaching, and I greeted them with the usual salesman's smile, and they inquired about any sales or clearance items. I directed them to the clearance section after reviewing any sales or opportunities for money saving we might have. I continued my work, and I looked up occasionally to see if I could offer any assistance..

The two people had wandered to the clearance section, and had been admiring an old frame. They picked it up, looked it over, and lost the ambitious expression on their faces. They sat the frame down, and eventually drifted away. Out of curiosity, I checked the clearance section, and I picked up the frame as they did. As I looked it over, I noticed a few scratches, maybe a small blemish or tarnish in the silver, and a small dent on the bottom right side.. but the rest of the frame was just fine. There was nothing actually wrong with the frame, it still served as a photo frame.. and I couldn't understand why those people wouldn't acknowledge this. I couldn't grasp the reason as to why they didn't accept this object's few flaws and realize it's overall potential.. but they didn't. They sent it back to it's dusty hearth, and walked away.

Recently, this is all I've been feeling, when I've been able to feel. I'm damaged, I'm flawed, I'm.. nothing new. Of course this is pitiful, people, what fucking choice of feeling do I have left to feel?!?! Jesus, there's not one God-damned reason on God's green earth why those people shouldn't have taken that frame.. somebody should. As a wise and obviously more intelligent young man said, "You never want anyone to look past your flaws. You want them to accept them, and love you for them." Well, of course, that young man didn't give me a snowball's chance in hell, but you know something, at least he said something worthwhile.

There have been strings of potentials, where I've tried my best to polish myself up, hide the damage, and hope for the best, but they've all decided they can find better, and you know what? Maybe they can. I was once told I was nothing more than a part of a curse of meaningless guys that pleas and begs for a chance, and has nothing special to offer. I was no different than a beggar, a hopeless vagabond pleading for love and warmth. And recently, I thought I had finally caught a break, where I didn't have to be ashamed of myself, or make myself look worthwhile.. but what happened? Yep, you guessed it: not good enough. Just a friend. Just a confidant. Just a dreamer. Just another hopeful, waiting for an absolution that would never come.

So I'm back on the mantel, gathering dust and age, losing what polish I have left.

Still waiting for grace.