If elephants could fit into tea cups

If Elephants Could Fit In Tea Cups

I walked in a quiet room on Friday night hoping for some peace when I saw a broken coffee cup on the floor. My friends were busy - as they always are on Friday nights. I'm not one for the party scene so I spent most evenings alone trying to avoid my arrogant family. I didn't mind it though. Our house was huge and we rarely saw each other so I stayed in the library often. A little room, brightly lit with warm lighting and filled to the brim with books. Reading was where I could escape - so I did. Inside the Library was a study desk equipped with a chair, a ladder for high shelves, and a couch in the center of the room. I liked to sit on the couch with my cat Julius by my feet and a cup of coffee in my hand to avoid falling asleep - which almost never worked. I always used the same cup, spoon, and saucer. The cup was a pretty off-white. It had a small ruffled handle. A pale pink rose sat right above a black accent stripe that reached across the diameter of the cup. The saucer also had a black accent stripe that went around the rim of itself.
I always loved that tea set. Something about its simplicity, yet a number of things about it kept a catastrophe from happening. For instance, it was meant for tea even though I always put coffee in it. The indention in the saucer kept the cup from spilling coffee everywhere and the spoon was just the right size. The little handle allowed you to steadily hold it with a couple of fingers leaving a free hand. It was plain, beautiful, and perfectly put together unlike my life. It's silly, I found structure in a tea cup but not a family. At least when a cup is dirty you can clean it, and there was no cleaning them. My family was pretentious and often lived in silence. All I ever wanted was for them to stop pretending - they often pretended nothing was wrong. I will not pretend that nothing is wrong when my siblings and I rarely spoke and we hadn't had a meal together for a long while. The dishes needed to get dirty and I will not pretend. I will not pretend like my mother did about my father's infidelity. I will not pretend we were always happy like everyone assumed. Behind closed doors we were real and what made us fake was pretending, lying, and forgetting. I used to make my own coffee because the way my father made it was dirty. It left an awful taste in your mouth and coffee grounds in your teeth. That coffee was like my family. It smelled good from a distance and left a residue in the cup.
I will not be like my family and I will not pretend. Maybe I have been like them lately because I have not forgiven them. They are the skeletons in my closet, and the elephant in the room - but I need to forgive them for that; though, it's a bit late. It's a bit late and I'm biting my tongue because my parents are gone and my siblings are grown. I could not tell you the last time we spoke. They're too much like our parents to change and I need to understand the bitter truth of what my family has become. The residue on the coffee cup meant for tea is still there. A smooth blend would never leave a mark.
I need to keep in mind who who I'm thinking about because I can't quite remember. Even though the point may be lost by now I still find myself picking up the pieces of a broken coffee cup off the floor. It's eerie because someone else should've done it by now. They forgot but I will forgive them and not forget. A tea cup taught me that. Or was it a coffee cup?