i view our relationship as something similar to vases, or rather the production of it; the making of something out of nothing.
pottery requires efforts and patience of talented hands to transform clay into various shapes of desired vases which are then judged by its ability to hold water which will determine if the artists had succeeded in making perfection.
as for the production of vases in our story, you are the potter; the mastermind behind every designs, the person in charge in shaping the clay on the wheels to become something meaningful, the artist who craves perfection. hands gently shaping the clay, punctuality taken seriously during fire clay, every steps are made sure followed.
but what could have been beautiful and strong, i ruined by throwing it across the wall it did nothing but fell forcefully to the ground scattered, all worth gone out of window. as i stood still across the room watching blankly at the now cracked vase, moments passed and suddenly i thought maybe if i ran fast enough i could still save the last piece of it but the damaged was already done there was nothing left to do but throw it all away.
i now know why many people hold on to pieces of their past and why some romanticizes broken things.