Is being pretty pointless?

I feel like a porcelain ornament which serves no purpose. I'm delicate, with pretty gold patterns. Swirling, shifting and hypnotising.
Everything seems fine, until one day I develop and enormous crack. Going against the laws of physics, I somehow stay together, but everybody can see the obvious strain it is putting on me. Nobody can see the beauty anymore. All I am is a mistake, a flaw, imperfect. The golden lines are broken, destroying my charm - now I am just pathetic.
All the people who have seen me before are shocked - how could such a resilient object break so suddenly? I wonder too. However one party does not seem overly surprised at my breakdown... they knew all along.
They saw the tiny little imperfections on my surface. They saw them creep and spread. They were the ones to cause my ultimate break. They dropped the bomb.
I suppose my brokenness shouldn't be a surprise. Sure, it looks like it came out of the blue. But really, the pressure came so slowly that I just took a long time to break. It was bound to happen. The bomb just speeded things up a little.