Ironic, timing for this chapter to me. I'm sure a lot of people have come across these times in their lives when the cup seems bone dry and you're left looking at that one lone drop.
What do you say?
What do you do?
What do you think?
Write this chapter.
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It's craziness, it's foolishness, but that one drop sits there untouched. You watch, painfully, as it remains unused, left to evaporate into nothingness, all because as long as you imagine there's a drop left, your cup isn't empty.
You wonder what on earth happened to your cup, where did it all go? What kind of person has a cup this empty? No one.
You watch people drink from their cups, and wonder what you've done wrong, what could have possibly happened to rob you so completely of every last drop you once so joyfully held.
You don't belong with those people anymore. They have cups, they are full to overflowing. You're empty.
The small shred of hope you glean from that last minute drop glistening at the bottom of the cup doesn't give give as much hope as it steals. It seems to only linger on, taking obscenely long to evaporate, while you know it's only prolonging the inevitable. Your cup, and all the wonders, and life that was found therein - is empty.
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