Have you got that one envelope that you've been using your entire life? You've put your 6th grade periodical exams results in it. Your high school diploma has been embraced by its tan skin. Even your first ever resume has seen its better days. But still, it's here and always ready to protect papers for which you'd willingly give your life.
My special envelope is red. I don't even remember anymore since when I've had it. It's just always been there. I think I used it first to be the vessel of my college requirements: birth certificate, registration form, good moral, high school grades sheet, 2x2 id pictures, tuition receipt, etc. It's been almost six years since then, and it has not been flawless journey.
Now, every side has a chink on its armor. A dent on the crimson cover that was supposed to be invinsible, because I needed it to be invisible. Nonetheless, I still use it. The tears it accummulated throughout the years have not made it any less useful than when it was brand new. It's such a curious little thing.
From college enrollment requirements, my red plastic envelope now contains graduating requirements: application for graduation form, first evaluation sheet, first to twelfth(!) registration card, and tiny scraps of paper. I still cannot believe I have made it this far.
Envy, I want to apologize for not having appreciated your efforts. You have been most helpful. I'm sorry for stuffing you with so many papers, sometimes, that I couldn't even close you up anymore. I'm sorry for shoving you forcefully in tight spaces until I cut your edges. I'm sorry that I haven't been kind to you. I'm sorry that I only saw your true purpose now. I hope it's not too late, and you'll hopefully forgive me. But most of all, thank you for staying with me.
