Autobiography of a broken plate sorry like

I was considering the broken plate analogy the other day when it occurred to me that it is, in fact, an incomplete thought. If you’re unaware of the analogy of which I speak it goes something like this:

“Grab a plate.

Now break it on the floor.

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Now tell it you’re sorry. Is it fixed? No? Now you understand.”

It makes sense. It gets the point across but lacks the punch that the “plate” in any scenario really feels.

In my mind the scenario goes like this:

Grab a plate.

Smash it. Tell it your sorry.

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The plate believes you that you are sorry and forgives you but it is still broken. Now comes the sticky part. You feel bad that the plate is still broken so you try to fix it. Glue, duct tape, anything that will put the pieces back together for the plate.

Autobiography of a broken plate sorry like a girl

The plate is grateful. You feel good for helping put the plate back together. And you are both happy for a time while the plate is letting the glue dry and from all outward appearances the plate looks