Oliver imagines that if he were a cup, he would be the one that was never used only until when the rest of the cups have ran out. The spare cup. The “Ah yes! There’s one more cup!” kinda cup. The one that is hidden in the farthest corners of the darkest cupboards not found in living rooms or kitchens – only in rooms you never enter because they hold valuable things. It’s the cup you gift a person you love. The cup you love to hold, when you hold it.
But he is not the first cup you pick if you stretched out your arms. Because he is never the star of the show or the man in the spot light. He is the one behind the crowd. The one who hears the story last and the one who sees what the people in the front are not seeing.
Oliver writes on this blog to teach himself how to write, to express himself, to share his perspectives and to demonstrate his understanding of the world around him. You are allowed to share in this words, and to share with your friends. You are allowed to share a differing opinion, to shed more light. But you are discouraged from expressing intolerance in dismissive and disrespectful ways.