Sometimes I feel very insignificant, though it rarely bothers me. But maybe one day I'll be ignored, or I'll feel lonely, and I will feel the need to force myself to matter. I will apply myself to something fully, but that will only make me feel worth something in relation to something else. Like as a pair of shoes that need feet, or a shell that, without an occupant, will only be crushed into sand and disappear among the millions of tiny grains. I can't make myself significant in the way that I want to be, because I don't decide.
But who does decide? Often these things--the shoes, the shell--are the things that one takes for granted; the things that appear to have the least amount of meaning are not so. A pair of shoes is like a shield from the rough cruelness of the earth and a shell is a home. I chose not to force these objects to have meaning at all, but I glorified them in their insignificance, at there barest time of being, instead of portraying them in a way that made them appear, quote un quote, "meaningful." Whatever that even means.
