a plate

i was doing my chores this morning, when i'm arranging the cups, putting it back to its place, when suddenly, prangg ! one plate fell down from its place and shattered to pieces. i was shocked. and i don't know why, suddenly it just hit me. the plate was on it place, sitting there peacefully, and not long after that, it breaks, and thrown away to the garbage. as if it were never useful before. as if its presence means nothing when it was still in a good condition. and no one cares about the broken plate. not even my mum. it reflects me of death. what if one day, when i die, people just bury me and then forget everything about me not long after that ? as if my presence means nothing in anybody's life. maybe i'm overthinking, yes. but honestly, sometimes, i feel like i meant nothing in anybody's life. like, my presence and absence are just.. nothing.