A fable

There are things that people don't tell you.

For example, did you know that somewhere, far far away, in a place forgotten and so far away that it has lost its name, there is a building. Who built it, no one knows, just as the name of the building is lost to the knowledge of man. But there it stands still, and inside the building, there is a room.

And in the room, there is a cup. And the cup is different for every person, and there is one for every soul that lives.

And the cup is filled. It is filled with the spilled tears of those you have hurt, the ungratefulness you show to your parents and those who care about you, the cold indifference and callousness you treat your siblings and others with, the held-in howling loneliness that no one else knows of those you have forsaken, the petty angers and jealousies that you inflict, the uncaring selfishness that lie behind your actions, the choked-back, torn and stifled cries buried in pillows of those you have abandoned, the myriad evils of your life.

Oh, the cup brims.

But it can hold more, it can hold all the cruelty and pain you inflict.

And be certain, be very very certain, that one day you will have to drink from the cup. And it will be returned unto you tenfold.

And when it passes to you to do so, drink deep. Drink deep and do not whimper.