Spoiler! :
As a family sized box of frosted crisps breakfast cereal, I've discovered I only have one purpose. In the mornings, usually always mornings, I'm pulled from my dusty little corner on that spot above the fridge, and my contents hailed into bowls. That's when I felt my best, sitting at that table as if I was of the family while the children munched whole-heartedly on my insides. They were young little things, those kids; they were at that age where everything is no longer important once it's stopped directly affecting them. So after I was thrust away back into my corner and as soon as the children had reached the front door, wrestling tiny arms into their backpacks, I'd already been forgotten. It was as if I had never done anything for them at all—let alone feed them, a necessity that should never be forgotten!
Still, they forgot, and only recalled me the following morning when their stomachs ached enough that they should remember me. It was enough that I didn't care about being so easily forgotten, since they'd always come clamoring back, excited for their first meal of the day.
It became that I enjoyed my life overall, if not because those children always returned. They'd sometimes even read my backside, and admire my frontside which was (in my opinion) pleasantly decorated with an enlarged photo of a bowl, and in it my cereal flakes. There was a few times their mother even picked me up to my side to look over my nutrition information. I knew I was very healthy!
Healthy for the children, sure. But healthy for a box of cereal? No! In my happiness I had failed to see my own health deteriorating—I had given too much to those children, and now my box was becoming empty!
More than the fear of death, I was fearing the feeling of being unwanted. I didn't want to be tossed aside because I was no good, replaced by a box only a little bit sturdier than mine! Why was I so easily replaceable? Just like every box out there, I wanted to be worthwhile! Dare I say renown for centuries to come? No matter how hard I fought, the clock continued to tick, and my life continued to dwindle to its last flake. And so I breathed my last breath looking on to children who would remember me for an inkling as that morsel that calmed their hungry stomachs. I am a box, and just as you I'm looking onto that moment I was most useful to the world, and just like you, it was only for a moment.
Gender:
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