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People are like a bowl of Cheerios


When you were little, you didn't notice. Or care.

All you had were plain old Cheerios (Honey Nut if you were lucky)

And you ate the little rings like you had nothing better to do.

You knew it was better than baby food.

But the older you got, the more you noticed.

Some Cheerios were bigger than others.

Sweeter than others.

Darker than others.

Some didn't even have all their pieces.

But they were still Cheerios.

Apple Cinnamon, Chocolate, even Yogurt Burst Cheerios

But they're still Cheerios.

Some get pushed to the dark bottom of the bowl, so soggy they almost give up and fall apart.

Some are on top of the pile, enjoying the view of your Saturday morning cartoons and staying out of the milk.

Then there are those Cheerios, the ones that float on the milk and wait for that lucky swoop of the spoon that'll bring them on top where they strive with all their Cheerio-ness to be.

The last few Cheerios, the ones that float around with their rings crossed hoping and praying they don't get poured down the sink.

And then the Cheerios that get left in the bag, until the next time you decide to have breakfast for dinner.

Some of them fight to get to the bottom, they're not ready yet.

But those ones on top, that fall right in the bowl, they know it's their time to shine.

But Cheerios.

Are Cheerios.

And people are people.

But maybe people should be Cheerios.

Cheerios don't get discriminated because they're Fruity.

Or because they have names like Dulce de Leche.

Because Cheerios are Cheerios.

And people are people.

But Cheerios get eaten, so maybe we should just learn how to treat people right...

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