I don't remember how I came together, not exactly. I know I started as gum base and I got heated up and sterilized. I was then spun around a good bit. That was when I lost a lot of myself, bits of bark and dirt. I then had several things added to me. The sugar was the worst. To have all that added sweetness and syrup out of nowhere, it can be disconcerting. I was stretched, heated, cooled and cut. But it wasn't so bad, not really.
Then life was good for a while. Me and my mates were all together in a little package, a regular family. Oh the times we had. We didn't mind the dark or the constant smell of mint. None of us even minded being wrapped in paper. Our wrappers felt nice and comfortable. I loved our home. We had no needs. We had safety.
And then it happened. Our home was ripped apart. A huge hand tore the top of our package off. Light flooded our damaged domecile. I nearly burned from the intense heat of the day. We were terrified. There was air and noise and smells, our precious mint was nearly lost.
We started disappearing one by one. The hand would come down and one of us would go. We had no idea where they went or why they were chosen. The hand just took them away and they never came back. Then one day, it was my turn.
My paper was shucked off, I was left naked in the too bright sunlight. I could see the world around me. It was dizzying. Then, the hand lifted me to the moist mouth of my torturer. Constant crushing followed. All my mint flavor and most of the sugar left me within minutes. All the extras of my life were taken away. I'd only just gotten used to the sugar when it was squeezed out of me.
And then, the mouth spit me out. I made a large arc in the sky and landed in the grass near a pile of dog poo. I'd had better days. I watched as my tortorure's feet moved away from me.
Then it wasn't so bad. The poo smell faded, light turned to dark and the outside of me hardened a bit. I thought maybe I'd found a new home. It was roomy and open, if a bit isolated. At least there was shade from a nearby bush and I got to see plenty of people come and go. It was okay, until someone stepped on me.
I ended up on the bottom of a shoe, which may have been fine if the person who stepped on me had realized I was there but they didn't. They just kept walking.
Step - I stick to the ground and stick to the shoe. Shoe lifts into air - I stretch. I stretch. I break. Part of me stays on the shoe, part of me on the ground. Step, stick, lift, stretch, break. Again and again and again.
Now, I'm in a closet. Only a little piece of me remains. I don't know how long I'll be here, but at least it's dark and quiet, much like my home. No poo either.
Mine has been a short, hard life.