Meaningless, In an Instant

At this very moment, a soggy old English teabag is contemplating its life from the bottom of a plastic bin bag, despite the fact that only a brief moment ago, it was brewing away in someone’s styrofoam cup.

Sitting there soaking, the teabag still felt warm. Soon it would grow cold, and possibly stick to a used tissue or mutilated piece of gum. On the way down to the bin it relinquished its Twinings tag, leaving it nameless while its string wandered through the rest of the rubbish, eventually strangling a Coke can.

The teabag felt royally alone. There wasn’t one single thing inside the bin, other than the teabag itself, with even the slightest credentials that would warrant appointed to the Queen.

‘What’s it all about? Life? Is this really it?’ The teabag shivered, yellowing in colour. ‘I was in that damn cup for merely a minute! Barely given a chance provide any colour.’

The Styrofoam cup arrived soon after, landing right beside the whinging English teabag. The cup, which wished it was china, was broken, and looked as though it had been chewed a little at the rim.

‘Well, I just want to die!’ Leaked the teabag.

‘You will, eventually,’ announced the Styrofoam cup, ‘I’ll be here a very, very long time, languishing around landfills for the next 500 years or so.’

‘Fuck you.’ Replied an environmentally friendly muesli wrapper.

There was no response from the teabag who was now completely dry and wrinkled. It’s life all but over. Meaningless, in an instant.

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