I am a Sponge

I idly sit by and watch as others create messes they are too stubborn to clean up. It’s not just a slight spill or splatter. It’s a science experiment gone wrong. I hear the explosions of screams that can’t be tuned out, and I see the words flying in all directions.

But I am too cowardly to do anything. I sit there and I absorb it all. I take in all the crap they don’t want anyone else to see, and I hide it away. I take in so much that it makes me heavy. I cannot think about anything else seriously because of the muck I am forced to soak up.

I want to say something. I want to squeeze out my own opinions, and make them make sense of things. I want to be able to say “Stop putting me through this!” I want to tell them to be careful and not slip; slip up so badly that they knock over everything we worked so hard build. But I don’t. Instead, things topple over, and stuff breaks, and someone expects me to mop it up and pretend nothing happened.

I can only do so much. The mess may be gone, but the remnants remain. The bigger pieces I couldn’t pick up and toss away are still there, reminding everyone of the sloppiness they try so hard to cover.

I just wish someone would wring me out. I can only hold so much in before I start to get soggy. And I can only clean up so many messes before I get worn out. Soon I will be nothing but a dingy sponge, unable to wipe away and absorb. It will be time to toss me away.

Maybe a dishrag would do a better job.