Once upon a time, many, many centuries ago there was a water carrier who had to carry two big jugs of water to his mistress' house every morning. Both jugs were old jugs with beautiful designs painted onto them. One jug was perfect and intact, while the other had imperfections and a crack in it. The perfect jug always laughed at the imperfect jug, and mocked at it for everytime water was poured in, the water would slowly leak out.

Everyday, the water carrier would hold the imperfect jug on his left hand and the perfect jug in his right. And everyday, the imperfect jug would only be able to carry half the amount of water the water carrier poured in, while the perfect jug would be able to contain every single drop.

Years passed, and everyday the two jugs did their duty. Years passed, everyday, water leaked from the imperfect jug and dripped onto the ground, marring the beautiful painted design on it. Soon, the beautiful patterns had all faded off and what was left was just an old, dull, cracked jug.

One day, the perfect jug asked the imperfect jug, "What good are you? You are old, cracked and ugly, while my beautiful paint is still as good as new and I am able to carry every drop of water poured into me. Why do you still do your duty when you are no longer capable? Have you no shame?"

The old jug looked down sadly and told the perfect jug, "Have you ever noticed that the left side of the road is overgrown with beautiful and colourful flowers? Every drop of water that leaks from my crack waters and nourishes them and every single patch of my colourful paint was used to give them their beautiful colours. Your side of the road is plain and dry."

"The mistress only needs half a jug of water a day because she has made a well in her house and the water we carry from the springs is only used to water her plants. I gave half my water and all my colours to the beautiful flowers and the other half to the plants of the mistress. I have given all I have and when I finally break, I can break happily, because I have done the best of my duty." Hearing what the old jug had said, the perfect jug would not believe what it heard and refused to talk to the old jug again.

Years passed, and war arrived. The mistress and all her servants left the house in search for safety. The bomb hit the house and old jug and the perfect jug fell onto the soft ground. Soon, they were buried in the rubble.

Centuries passed. Day by day the perfect jug grew sadder and sadder, wishing that it could be of service to anyone in need. And the old jug allowed itself to disintegrate into the earth and returned itself into the cycle of nature. Many years later, an archaeologist found the sad perfect jug and put it into a museum. Even though the perfect jug was looked at and given attention everyday, it still could not forget what the old jug told it, so many years ago.

It had never done anything to of purpose in its entire life, and had mocked at someone humble but great. Now ie was old a fragile, it could never perform its duty again.

Our lives are not unsimilar to that of the two jugs. It is just what you choose to do and what way you choose to think. If life was so empty as the jugs, fill it up, and do something good with the water, even if it means having to sacrifice everything.

The end.

Original idea: Author unknown.

Rewritten version: LadyOdessa