Faded

How do you know when something has faded, is it the dark washed jeans turned bleach blue, or the washed out logo on your too small of a t shirt? Do you see it as faded, or do you think you can wear it one more time before throwing it away?

You see no matter how much something has faded, you do not see it, for you love it, it is your favorite thing. So you keep wearing those pair of jeans because it was once cherished and brand new, associated with a wholesome after thought, past thought, future thought, imagined thought. Yet one day you bend down to pick up a lucky penny and a slight enunciated rip occurred and shattered your ear drums . Your favorite jeans tore on one of your knees . But that is okay, you would wear them one more time before throwing them away. Weeks go by and you pick up those jeans, deciding to apologize for ripping it, it forgives you and apologizes also ; the cycle goes on. One bright morning, you heaved those jeans up your now more mature thighs, and just then you could feel the seams loosening with each timid pull. Please, you begged, stop, just stop disappointing me, you were once brand new, crisp and soft to the touch, now you’re course and harsh to look at. Please I once cherished you, you were my best friend, you were there with me through all my phases in high school to the chirpings of my adulthood. So, please hold on more, do not make me hate you, despise you, forget you. Do not make me erase those memories you gave me, the comfort you brought me, the warmth you enveloped me with. You practically hyperventilated while voicing your thoughts as if they could actually hear you. Just as you begged one more time, with your in denial self deteriorating, the seams loosened and they fell to the ends of your ankles in a pile of worn out and faded pieces of cloth. Alas, your favorite thing died in the end, for faded, is exactly what it is depicted to be. One breath away from disappearing.