Living is like being a t-shirt.
You grow up and you’re being sewn together.
When you’re ready and set on the shelves of the store, that’s when you’re ready to face the world.
You get picked up, and that is when it all starts.
The care, the abuse, the show.
You display yourself out there, you get criticized, you get put down, you get complimented, you get dirtied, you get pulled, pushed, and thrown.
You get picked up, cleaned (violently in a washing machine at a 1200 spin cycle), you get dried in a breeze of fresh air (or tumbled with scorching hot air rushing through you).
You get ironed, steamed, or pressed and you feel fresh, you feel alive, you feel awake and ready for another cycle of show, abuse, and care.
You’re neatly folded, tucked away, or hung in a closet among other t-shirts, all waiting for their day in the light.
What color are you? What do you look like? What’s your sign? What are you made of?