Glass. It's wild how something so fragile, so breakable, can be so dangerous. It can tear flesh with one slash of its jagged edge. Maybe I need to be broken before I can heal. Maybe being broken is the turn I need to become sharp. To become dangerous. But I’ve been broken, or at least I thought, more times than I can count. When my very first boyfriend cheated and lied? Broken. When my beloved dog passed away? Broken. Losing my Great Grandmother? Broken. Maybe the difference is I was able to pick up the pieces. I didn’t weaponize them, I held them. Close to my heart, where the only person they would hurt is me. Being continuously stabbed by jagged glass is why I couldn’t heal. I was broken, but instead of healing and weaponizing my hurt, I continued to shatter my own glass. Wondering why I wasn’t good enough and why do all bad things happen to me? Each beat of my heart cuts deeper and deeper into the
soft flesh, until I have nothing left to give. I don’t want to shatter my glass or anyone else's glass. I want to turn my glass into sand, small pieces that still sting as they are felt in your wounds but are small, easy to forget about. I want to turn my broken glass into sand.