Strike me Once, Shame on You; Strike me 10 Times... Shame on me

Have you ever considered the life of a match? Its sole purpose is for one second - a mili-second, really - of time. Intense heating, quick incineration, then carelessly tossed aside. That’s the purpose of a match, so I don’t really feel sorry as I strike, light, use and discard one – it’s fulfilling its ignition duties and serving civilized society nobly, however coerced it may have been. But what about those matches you spend extra seconds on, just trying to get a spark, to no avail? You end up scraping off all the red stuff until you just pitch it away in an irritated huff. This infinitesimal little appliance gets reduced to merely a thick toothpick. How sad. Sorta. Well, it’s mostly just pathetic.