Behind Broken Glass

Milan .. through the broken glass
Credit: claudiadea131 on Flikr

I am trapped behind a wall of glass, and on the other side is everything I could have ever wanted. On the other side, the world is vibrant and colorful, everyone smiles and laughs, everyone loves their lives and what they do on a daily basis. On the other side, bad days are few and far between, and the sun is always shining. On the other side, my dreams dangle right before my face like a constant reminder of the things I’ll never have.

On my side, the colors are dull and grey. The sun is constantly blotted out by the clouds, and the drizzles are never ending. Mud cakes the ground, and the buildings are battered and broken. On my side, there is only sadness and defeat, the broken sitting in their cardboard boxes and crying into their dirty, soaked clothes. On my side we wish for everything the other side has, while the other side doesn’t even realize we exist.

Everyone else on my side gave up a long time ago. They sit around, wallowing in their despair and don’t even attempt in dreaming of a better life. I’m different. I refuse to give up, to believe that this is the life I was meant to live. I stand at the wall daily, staring out at the other side, watching them live their perfect lives in awe. I don’t care when they look at me and fear what they may see. The wet girl in the torn clothes, staring at them like a begging puppy. They don’t care what they see either. A simple glance and then they turn away.

My dreams continue to dangle right there on the other side, just out of my reach. Out of my reach because of this stupid glass in my way. Gritting my teeth, I ball my fist. I want to take down this wall. I want to destroy it, I want to pummel it. I want… no, I need to get to the other side. I can’t live on this side anymore.

I’m not meant to be here anymore!

I begin to beat on my side of the glass. It starts with simple punching, but before long, I’m kicking it, beating it with my fists, screaming as I bash my head against it. I do everything within my power to get to the other side, but nothing is happening. The glass isn’t budging.

Until it finally cracked. A sob of joy escaped my throat and my resolve picked up. I would get to the other side if it were the last thing I did. My punches became harder. My kicks became faster. My movements became more ravenous. And through all my hard work and determination, the glass slowly began to break more and more. Each crack only strengthened my resolve. I would reach those dreams. I would own them. I would get on the other side with the vibrant colors. I would leave this dull existence, and taste the sun. I would.

Until it wouldn’t crack anymore. No matter how hard I kicked, no matter how much I punched or rammed my shoulder into it, no matter how loud I screamed. The ground was covered in a pool of blood from my knuckles, but I didn’t seem to know how to give up. I kept going, I kept fighting, but nothing was working. It wouldn’t budge.

Over time, I had spectators from both sides watching me as I fought. They would point and whisper, they would take out their phones and record, and some would even shout to me words of encouragement. But no matter how hard they saw me struggle, not a single one of them lifted their fingers to help me break the wall down. It didn’t take me long to realize I was on my own.

Gods, I was so tired. My body was in so much pain and growing weak, I was so tired as if I hadn’t slept in weeks. All I wanted to do was lie back, rest amongst those on my side who had given up. Giving up would be so much easier, just sit back and wallow in my darkness until Death took me. But no, that wasn’t who I was. I am the kind of person that has to push forward. I must. I must get to the other side.

To my dreams.


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