The Wrong Fit

I posted this essay on FB a while back, about a month ago, and before I share it I just want to explain its origins/why I wrote it. Like many writings, it can be taken differently (especially the symbolism) by different people. My personal reason for writing it was more of a reflection on past experiences. There's a saying that you've probably heard at least once before: "The grass is always greener on the other side." Well, from my perspective, I used to think that the average person my age, their daily routine, in other words, their "normalcy" was something that I really wanted. When I was younger, I was unable (as well as somewhat unwilling) to look beyond what is considered a "normal" life in our society, and to realize that  although my situation, (my school, home and social lives) are not exactly what I would think of as absolutely "normal" or average, really it's where God has me, it's my life, and I don't think any other would "fit" me, as although many doors are closed through it, just as many are opened by God, giving me opportunities to serve Him and to be who I'm supposed to be despite the different setting. As I grew up, I finally realized that the "shoe just doesn't fit," and that I'd wasted time I could have spent learning and growing into who I am, instead of who I wished I was. For others, the shoe may mean something else, but the same question remains: Is the "glass slipper" on the shelf really meant for you? And is it worth it?


 She tilted her head upward, gazing once again upon the glass slipper that she had at one time admired, but now had lost all reverence for. She had heard terrific stories about such objects, glamorous tales aimed to convince the listener that possessing one would be the beginning of an entirely different life, and would lead to a “happily ever after.” The slipper had not been cheap, however, and she had paid dearly for it, certain that it would be worth the price to wear a fairy tale. But she had not been surrounded by magic or filled with joy when she tried it on for the first time. Rather, disappointment had plagued her as she tried without success to place her foot into it. After hours of determined shoving and pulling at the shoe, she had finally become weary of the struggle and had given up, forcing herself to accept the fact that it would never fit her; that it was not the right size. Exhausted and disgruntled, she had placed her treasured item on a high shelf, a combination of longing and awe flowing through her with every glance in its direction. But months had now gone by and the wonder that had possessed her as she had beheld it for the first time had slowly faded, and as dust had collected on the inside of the shoe a faint sense of loathing had built up inside of her, so that now every time she strode past the place where it was kept, or her eyes went briefly over it from across the room, she felt only failure for never having achieved what she had hoped for so much, and regret over the time and effort wasted because of its presence. Now she reached above her head, lowered the slipper to eye level, and with her hand, brushed off the worst of the dirt. Again she noticed its smoothness, its perfect shape and the way it sparkled as the sunlight coming through the window penetrated it. However, this time she saw something else as well; it was useless, and of absolutely no value to her. It served no purpose as it stood idly before her, the source of nothing but silent taunting. At this, she may have thrown the shoe against a wall in anger, or returned it to its shelf in denial, but did neither. Instead, she allowed it to slip slowly from her fingers, feeling the freeing release wash over her as it touched the ground and shattered.