Broken Glass

“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” – Anton Chekhov

Shattered. Utterly and completely shattered. Like taking a hammer to a porcelain doll and striking it repeatedly. Thats how a broken heart feels, but a million times worse. Trying to pick up every piece again when its all over the floor, laying there as if it never was full of love and distant memories, fulfilling this life and moving onto the next best thing. Going crazy on my own now, as I’m used to your embrace when the hot tears leak from my eyes, instead they are now greeted with the cold hard pillow. Instead of the familiar stroke of your hand on my hair I’m now greeted with a matted mess because I refuse to get up and fix it. It hurts to do anything anymore.

Toxicity at its finest is believing whoever hurt you was only doing it to protect you or help you in some way. However, it most certainly isn’t the case. You lose yourself pretending to be someone this person created you to be and it can be hard to rediscover yourself after such destruction has been made. You are filled with torment and reassurance which is unassumingly in perfect melody with chaos and harm. Promising us tomorrow in our world of impractical ideas and thoughts. We are told tomorrow is around the corner, without ever being promised to live and see it for ourselves.

It seems tragic that we love without ever getting the promise of being loved or having any kind of reciprocation of our feelings. We trust without knowing who we are trusting, in a sense we dance with the devil, not even noticing his blood red skin underneath the charisma. How do we let ourselves get hurt without ever understanding what it actually is that seems to be causing us the most harm. Its daunting to trust and leave your heart on your sleeve or you too, might end up in a thousand scatters pieces on the cold tiled floor, just waiting for someone to fix you only to shatter you worse.