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Ash

United States

Female. Youngest of six. Pretty (?), sarcastic, Tom-boyish, and very much a geek.

Message from Writer

I guess I should say honest feedback is best but nothing crazy brutal. That said, please don't go to the other extreme and try to spare my feelings. Be descriptive and truthful because I really want to improve.

Broken Glass

April 27, 2014

The pieces are broken but not yet shattered, somehow staying together despite all the abuse they'd endured. I'd give anything to say that they were painted pretty colors, that it was an artistic choice rather than merely messed up. The dark shades would make it nearly impossible to see the tragedy that was on the other side. I debate stretching out my hand and placing my palm gingerly on the glass, giving the friend some comfort through my companionship and loyalty. But the clear divider isn't as smooth as it once was. The jagged edges now greatly outnumber the polished ones and the time for self-sacrifice has passed. I could smile, offer hope and joy, but my face remains as blank as the one that stares back at me. He has a mouth that he could distort into a grin or frown but he settles for making his eyes look entirely disinterested while his mouth stays in a tight line. Could he see the way my lips curved downwards through all the little cracks or had I becomes as invisible as our friendship? Why did I continue to look back outside? There was nothing to see except a few houses and an almost deserted street, which could barely be made out with the numerous fissures. How could he feign such a lack of emotions? He had thrown the rocks at my window and I was the one who took the time to put it back together. Did he ever help do anything but destroy? I never said a word about the stinging sensation or my battle wounds. I just smiled the next time he walked by and he'd smile right back. I'm done being the glue that keeps everything together. I pulled down my shade and sat back down on my bed.

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