Just a Shell

I imagined that I was full of substance, filled with so much to say, to do and be. I built up all that was possible within my mind and I covered it in layers of glittering opportunities found in what others did not want. I absorbed rivers of knowledge and wasted nothing that the they did not use. I poured it over the shell that was me, thinking it would fill me, nourish me and give me form that was dense and strong with a substance that was unbreakable. I would be strong enough to show that I am something more than nothing. Time passed and the other creations were formed into statements that meant something and I envied them their pride and stories. They mocked me, for I was where the leftovers had been placed. I thought that all their parts and unused waste would make me something more than I was, something beautiful and strong. I was wrong, I don't think I'm strong at all. I finally lifted myself up and saw that I was so fragile and empty. The pretty colors muted as they'd mixed into the glittery rivers that became me. I am a shell of what I had expected to be, and yet, I was more than I should ever have been.