It’s really hard being a discarded piece of steel, sometimes. I’m not quite sure what was wrong with me, but one moment it was looking like I’d be on my way to some big construction project to fulfil my purpose in life. Perhaps I would be part of a skyscraper or a warehouse! The next moment, the foreman looked me over and decided that I was better off in the scrap heap.
I don’t hold it against him, of course. Nor do I hold it against the metalworker who created me. They’re the best steel suppliers Melbourne has to offer – if they decide that I’m not good enough to be used in a construction project, I trust their instincts. It is hard, though. All my life, I’ve imagined the incredible places I could have gone and all the purposes I could have served. I had my whole life ahead of me, only for it to be taken away in a moment. Now I sit in the scrap heap, watching as other pieces of steel get to go on and fulfil my dreams.
At least it’s not lonely here. After all, plenty of steel gets discarded, so I have lots of friends. Me and my buddies, discarded by Melbourne’s best steel fabricators, left to rust in the dirt. I guess it sounds pretty depressing when you put it like that. It’s not all bad, though. We play a lot of I Spy, although the answer is almost always some variation of ‘steel’ or ‘metal’. We also get to eavesdrop on the workers, and there’s plenty of gossip to go around, so that’s kind of fun. I’ve also considered starting a Goblins and Grottos game with the other pieces of discarded steel, but it might be difficult since we don’t have any dice. Or arms, now that I think about it.
You might be wondering how I could possibly be writing on the internet if I don’t have any arms. To be honest, it’s probably best if you don’t think about it too much.