How is it that people forget how broken others can be? I know I have been callus in the past, before I understood the frailty of the heart, as delicate as mine was.
But now… even after one’s own heartbreak, I see so many people so absorbed in themselves, their hearts, and the glass barriers they put up.
It’s the sort of glass only one side can look through, but it’s not the side one would guess.
No, the inside is a mirror, where one thinks they are hidden and no one dare look in upon them. “If only they could see who I really am!” They cry.
But we do. We can see them through the glass and try to reach through. “Darling, of course I see you, but let me in so I can know you!”
Of course, they never hear our shouting. They only count the mirrored whispers coming from their own lips, dripping like slow fountains that poison, twist the glass until nothing can be recognized in the mirror.
But from the outside, we still see the child who has decided they do not belong; who do not see the other glass mirrors people have built around them.
No one is alone. A wall of glass is only unique the first time. Now the wall of mirrors reflects the beasts we’ve fallen to.