Doormat

About a year ago, the word "Doormat" came to me as something new and meaningful. Probably the first thing that come to one's mind is of cos iterally the doormat that's placed near a door. But here, i don't meant just like that. It has something else more interesting to look into it.

Let's talk about the purpose of a doormat. I suppose it's used for decoration, something that's used to step on and a medium for one to wipe their moist sole. Look deeper into it, and it's not difficult to understand that if you're labelled or considered as a doormat, probably it just mean that you're someone who's not to be considered as human for a start.

You will just probably be one who has few friends, always being make used of, always alone and left in the cold, always yearning for attention. Stupid as it sounds, whenever someone stepped onto you, you felt good. You would want to bring out the best of yourself, hoping that particular person will take a second look at the mat he/she is stepping on.

You would felt happy at that particular moment, cos you felt warmth and not alone. In spite of these happening only for split seconds, you felt like it's for years. Before you know, the person has left, after cleaning or drying their soles on you. You feel used, you feel cold, you feel like dying.

What's left behind are just vague traces of those who had stepped upon you, with dirt and dust all accumulated on you, and slowly you start to wear and tear. Who's there to save you from all these misery? Probably no one..

You pray hard for a day that your owner will come and put you through a spinning machine, called the washing machine, cleaning and drying you up. When it's done, you are thrown back to the same spot you stood for years. As much as you wish you're no longer back near the same old dull door, you will hope you're not replaced by a new doormat and thrown into a cold dungeon, called the storeroom.

You start questioning yourself, whether being a doormat is something noble or something considered the lowest form of life. You question the purpose of life, and you never ever felt appreciated. You hope to contribute more to the world, trying hard to be nice by doing your job well, but at the end of the day, you know you are just simply a doormat.

You try to cheer yourself up and stood by your job with full devotion. You try to convince yourself, what you have done may be just a small act for others, it meant alot to you. You hope for a perfect day whereby you finally got a break from all these.

As i looked at my grey doormat which has stood there for years, while i'm typing this, i could see the sad look staring straight into my eyes. You can't help wonder how it felt over the years, but yet one can only imagine and will never truly understand it.

The taste of being doormat is something which could easily brings one down, down deep into depression. On days you felt real down, you could only feel your bleeding heart, and see your own lonely shadow. For so much you have done, you just simply wish to give up, everytime and everyday... cos you are just trying too hard, trying to be someone...