My Glass House

A Story by Kaylee

I live in a house of glass. Glass is everywhere, and its fabulous and dazzling to everyone that sees it from the outside in. Glass is clear and pure, glass is white and bright. It's what you look through to see yourself, to see outside, and to see where you want to be. I want to be on the other side of the glass looking in, i want to see how bright and dazzling everything looks from the outside.

In glass, once there is a crack, its not an easy fix. more times than not, you just buy new glass and replace it. It doesn't work like that in my glass house. In my house, broken glass is patched up and fixed up, never fully repaired. The cracks draw closer and closer to each other with every click of the tongue and every tear in your eye. Wall by wall, they crumble apart. They fall to the floor without warning, and crash at my feet. I cant believe i'm saying it, but the breeze makes the pain not hurt as bad.

I don't want to walk over the glass, but it's the only way you can get to the point you need to be at. I've always been hesitant, and I never wanted to hurt anyone other than myself. The pain in me is heavier than i can deal with, and the weight makes the glass dig into my feet more. Just when it becomes numb, you take another step. It's a reality check, not the breeze, and not your pain. Just reality telling you, run. Even though I'm only a step away, I can hear another wall crash behind me, and my sister running away.

I try to hold it together, but it never works out. I can't even bear the sound of a yell, or feeling someone mad. I'll loose it, and I'll be numb for a while. I say I'll be numb, but I'll cry to myself. I'll hear another wall crash, and my brother packing his bags. I take another step, letting the pain sever my feet, and waiting for the numb to come again.

I can see my escape, I can see where I belong. I'm told I'm wrong, but they're the ones who built glass walls. I distance myself, see if it works. All I get is his face and that look. Escape to my paradise; my love and my home. His house made of bricks, and foundation of stone, I'm not the one that's doing it wrong. I take a couple steps, a deep breath to my chest, and walk a couple more, and see my home is gone.

I look back, and all I see is glass, shattered on the ground and them alone together, that's what he's always wanted, saying "the kids are our problems, we don't need anyone".