Life Is A Trash Bin


It doesn’t matter who you are, what you do, or where you’re from: life is like one big bin of trash. Crumpled up masses of paper. If I were to have some sort of group to class life, then it’d be exactly that. You may be thinking, “What? Trash? She’s saying life is trash!?”. Be assured, it’s not quite what I meant.

Nothing says “I messed up” or “useless” more than a tossed paper with writing on it. Maybe  its writing is all crossed out, a phony number written, or some useless receipt for a (in my opinion, way over priced) $5.60 Starbucks Latte. Either way, can you see the connection? Dreams, futures, wishes, and failures can all be classified as a crumpled up paper. What we don’t need, or want, or simply put, can’t achieve- all of it-crumpled pieces of paper sitting in a bin.

The “American Dream”, for example. An immigrant from (not to be cliché) Mexico comes to America. She plans to work, to have this so called “equality” and “success” that the great country boasts. She’s not met with that, though. Instead she is subjugated to the stereotypes of a Mexican immigrant, made fun of- and even worse, she can’t understand them fully- of her culture and accent. She’s belittled in the eyes of her “equals” and then she starts to feel like what they’re saying- whatever they’re saying- she is. That’s when she fights, trying to someway prove herself- whether it be to America or anybody- that she belongs. She has a right as much as anybody else does. She can achieve the American dream too.

It’s wrong, incorrect, a mistake; Is the American Dream even attainable now? She has a certain set of skills, and cannot receive the opportunity to develop them further, how then, can a communnity demand more progress from her? Someone is looked down upon, being shunned for the origins, their culture, or even the way they’re dressed. How can she aspire to reach her dreams when she is forcibly held down? She is nothing but a paper, crumpled, and tossed into a bin that is filled with crushed dreams just like her own.  Instead of the nice residental area she lived in, a mortage she isn’t able to pay, and college fees she knows her family cannot afford- she will give up. She’ll wait for trash day to collect herself, to weep and give in to the insults and then willingly accept her assigned place in life.

What no one ever told her was that “recycling” was a thing. Yes, maybe she was crumpled and tossed into this bin. People often think a crumpled paper is trash, but not often is it considered a treasure. A mere bin full of paper can serve as a person’s new clean sheets of a composition notebook or a carboard box used to transfer goods all across the countries. Countless uses of recycled paper can be thought of. It all comes down to choice and perspective, doesn’t it?

She could be willing to just accept the norm and move on with her life. Be the trash of the community, don’t fight or complete the dream she held on to for so long. Or she could choose the recycling part, where she hears the derogatory names and biased judgement- the real trash- and put it to good use. Make a thousand jean pencils for children, or a million paper coffee cups, but overall- acheive the dream. Take the trash and use it as her motivation. “I may be a crumpled paper now, but one day I will be the first sheet of notebook paper a child will write on. I will make a difference”.

What we don’t need, or want, or simply put, can’t achieve- all of it-crumpled pieces of paper sitting in a bin. The only things that matter are how we see those papers and what we choose do with them.

Why am I assigning life to what’s in a trash bin? I can’t honestly answer that myself, if you’re not aware, I have a weird way of explaining things. But let’s not get off on the wrong foot. I’m not a Debby Downer who rants about just how terrible my life is. No worries there!

Here’s some links that went along with this:

Go Green! Recycle!:

Backstreet Boys (first line reminded me haha):

Go Green Everybody

Misu ❤


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