Made of Glass

A Short Story.

I could break any minute. Just one touch and I might shatter into a million pieces. I am made of glass, yet I take the risk of being broken. On the outside, I look like your average person: a happy young child rooting for the world around her. But each night when I return home, I must glue my fragments back together from where people have pulled me apart. Three simple words can break you as much as they can heal you; are you okay? They ask. Perfect. I say every single time. I am made of glass. With each day that rushes by, I am breaking. Slowly but surely cracking with every fake smile I paint upon my face. I am fine. Glass is thin but my blood is thicker. I will not crack.

I am strong. Stronger than most people think. I take everything that comes my way, my thoughts and other people’s thoughts included. Everything and anything but I manage to stay intact. I am made of glass, but I will not be hurt. Gratefully, I am here. I will continue to pick up the pieces until I am fully incapable of doing so. I keep my distance and my mouth shut. Things are better this way. The less negativity you give, the less you get. I will not break.

I don’t have feelings. Feeling is a way of being broken; the biggest risk of getting damaged. There’s only so many times you can break a mirror until it can no longer be fixed. I can’t be hurt. People think that if my glass isn’t visibly splitting on the outside, I am not split at all. But there is simply not enough glue in the world to mend my ruptured mind. The only way to keep it safe is to lock my heart away in a cage and throw away the key. I will not crack.

I was picking up every fractured piece of me that day walking home. There was no glue nearby, but I refused to give up. I will not break. I will not break. Constantly repeating words that I could not believe. I walked with the destination infront of me nothing but a blur, wishing that the ground would swallow me whole. But then he came along, picking up the pieces that I left behind and carried them until I was whole again. Until then, I didn’t believe when people said “sealed with a loving kiss” but he showed me the reality behind it. I did not break, but my cage did. My heart flourished until I feared that it would be the last thing I ever felt. I will not lose myself because he did not let me.

I am secured. I have been built stronger this time. I refuse to let anything, or anyone harm me. Anyone but him. He is my exception and my risk. I am made of glass, and I risk being broken. He holds me together better than any glue could. He takes the weight of my world in his hands and holds it until I can breathe again. I will not crack because I am in love.

You can always feel when something begins to come to an end. The effort contracts, and the conversations begin to die. Before you know it, the person you used to talk to everyday becomes the person you miss every day. You question yourself, asking what you could’ve done better, filling yourself with what ifs instead of seeing it for what it really was. You forget the good memories wondering how you managed to create the bad ones. Everything must come to an end. We are all living an unavoidable ending. I can’t be fixed anymore. I have not been broken. Nor have I been cracked. Predictably, I have been shattered.