Vessels

We are all just vessels, meant to be filled, empty buckets and containers.

///warning I wrote this in the middle of the night operating on four hours of sleep///

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1. Vessels

      There is no hope left inside of me. I'm nothing but a shell, a vessel for grief and hate and wrath. 
      But that's what we all are, isn't it? Just vessels, pawns in someone else's game. Sometimes it doesn't seem like I'm the pawn, but less. I'm the checkers piece in the chess game. 
      A vessel, yet no one chooses to fill me. I'm meant to carry, wether it is my own darkest emotions or someone else's being forced upon me. 
      No hope, just emptiness. The only faith I have is my faith in death, that it is inevitable, that it is the light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes I want to give myself death, sometimes I just can't wait for it to force itself upon me. Yet here I am, persuading myself to keep living.
      Not because I have even a flicker of hope for he future, but because death is a strange and beautiful thing, and I fear what will happen if I fail to achieve it. 
      I have seen so many beautiful creations in my years, yet none of them are anything more than a vessel. 
      Female, non-binary, transgender, male or gender fluid, regardless of what you identify as, we are still vessels—pawns. It makes us different, sure, but what's the point? Does that mean that one is better than another, make one more or one less?
      In case you got that wrong, the answer is "NO!" Diversity doesn't mean that there is a certain order people should fall in, it just means that our race is thriving, that we are at a peak. 
      It doesn't matter what your skin colour is, you're still a vessel for secrets and all those hidden emotions, the sadness behind the forced smile, the anger behind the words of forgiveness. Not slaves, but vessels. Buckets. Containers. 
      And yet again we are pawns, not in God's game, because face it, believe what you wish, God won't help you here, not after what this world has become. 
      Pawns in life's game. We are pawns that move ourselves across the board, sometimes not thinking ahead enough, sometimes having a bit too much forethought. 
      Sexuality doesn't matter. There's too many for me to list here without leaving anyone out, for making someone feel smaller than they already do, but let me tell you this. It's someone else's life, not yours, and if you're not a part of it, you don't deserve to hold an opinion over it. 
      What problems could I possibly have? How could a teenage, heterosexual, cisgender, Caucasian female have anything wrong with her life? 
      How could someone with the potential to be perfect throw it all away by befriending someone who is bisexual or Gender Fluid? How could I not? I see a beautiful, broken person, and I rush to their aid.
      I'm just as much a vessel as you, regardless of how great my life may seem on the surface. 
      Really I'm like a painting, some ceremonial vase—a vessel—decorated with colourful whirls and patterns and symbols that signify happiness. Yet I cry myself to sleep at night, I can't go a day without getting into a fight with someone I love, and really me pushing you away is just my way of crying out for help. 
    All that is painted on the outside, that is my fake smile and forced laugh. That is why the most used emoji on my phone is the smiling one, because while I am crying, I can always say that it's because I laughed so hard or that their tears of joy. Inside of hat vase though, the ceremonial vessel, is just a pile of ash. Ash and dust. Because that is all that's left inside me.
      But let's not make this about me, because the fractures that split my porcelain facade are nothing I little paint won't cover up.
      Instead, let's discuss this: why do you feel the need to separate yourselves from others? What is it that makes your sexuality, religion, race or gender superior to all others? 
      Race is another thing, and I'll make this short and sweet. The colour someone is on the outside does not influence the world of colour that blossoms inside every single on of us. 
      Back to my new train of though, why do you think you're superior? 
      Here's a newsflash for you, you're not. You're not god, and so what if you were? We're all the same as you, vessels, just painted differently. 
      The only thing that really matters in this waste of a life is one thing; acceptance. If you can't accept others, than they will never accept you. They may still never, but then who will be the better person? You wish to feel superior, so why not make yourself the better person? Accept others, rise above. Forget what some old book or some old man told you to do. Forget what your parents told you to do. And make that choice for yourself. 
      I have chosen to fill my vessel with rage and despair, but that doesn't mean you have to. 
      Cling to that foolishly beautiful hope. Keep chasing the end of the rainbow. Just keep going, and don't look back. Rise above, rise against, and conquer all those stereotypes, double standards, prejudices, and rumours. 
      Snatch your vessel back from emptiness' hands and start making the most of your life. 
      We didn't evolve to waste space, to destroy ourselves and everything else on this planet. Evolution turned in this direction because we were the strongest, we mutated and grew. At some point, we were just monkeys. At some point, we were primal. 
      We think we're so much better now, but are we? What really sets us apart? Our ability to hate? Because every animal out there can feel love as well as us, wether you choose to believe it or not. Animals feel emotion, same as people. People of every ethnicity, religion or sexuality. Of every gender and every upbringing. We feel emotion, we know that animals feel love too. But can they hate? Do animals have stereotypes? Double standards? Do all those other vessels that aren't human have all the problems we do?
      Again the answer is a loud, screaming, vicious "NO!!!" 
      One final question, as the night is drawing to a close, the sun rising once again, bringing with it a new day in this cursed life. 
      My last question,
            Should we say we're all the same inside, or choose to state that being different is okay?

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