This used to be my favorite bowl, until I dropped it last night. I don't even know how it happened, all I remember is I was walking across the room to wash it, and all of a sudden it was flying out of my hands, through the air, until it hit the edge of the table. Then this happened. I called my mom and was sad about it, and she was sad about it with me. She told me to go online and try to buy another one, so I bought two bowls, two plates, and a shirt instead (it's only a small shopping problem, the kitchenware was 4 for $12 it was a DEAL).
I was going to come on here and write some existential bit about my broken bowl and how I was sad but then I got over it and replaced it and how that's how everything eventually is and blah blah, but I'm not really that deep and that's some annoying hipster bullshit. And it's not even true anyway. Yeah I bought some other stuff and two new bowls, and two plates, but I'm still going to miss this one, even if it is just a bowl. It was so pretty, and I didn't even have it for six months.
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