Blue like home.
There's a blue mug amongst the many I have collected over the years. And it's not fancy. None of my mugs are. But there's something about the kind of blue that it is. It makes me want to pick it always. It came with a crack along it's handle that went unnoticed till I picked it up to drink my first cup of tea. The first time I noticed, I smiled. Not because it was money wasted. But something about that crack reminded me of the people I love. Broken but not enough to fall apart. Now everytime I wash it I can't wash it too hard like I usually would. Scared to break it. And I smile a little every time I wash it too. It'll always make me think of how I've always been made to be more careful than I was made for. I have to wash it at an angle so I don't have it's handle in my other hand by the end of it. It's my life in a moment. Always wondering if I am too much. If there's something in me that makes people want to break. Like when Tara tells V...