tonight i broke a glass.
and with it my ability to feel closed its eyes for longer this time than before. i looked at the pieces on the floor in disbelief. i thought i couldn’t be so careless. i was on my way to grab a pen so i could write about this type of freedom i discovered recently. but, tonight i broke a glass. tonight, i had to sweep a broken glass under a rug. well, it could’ve been a rug if i decided in that moment that it truly only gets worse from here. and if i didn’t get yelled at for the broken glass, then it would’ve been for the next thing i did or didn’t do or the next thing i said or couldn’t say. tonight, i threw broken glass away. then, i couldn’t feel anymore. just like how that glass couldn’t feel its structure anymore. just like how that glass couldn’t take it’s prior shape anymore. i knocked that glass over by moving a small foldable table to my liking where my pen writes smoother and my hand moves faster. i would’ve loved to put my newfound freedom on lined paper, but tonight i broke a glass. i walked away from the trashcan without feeling a thing. it’s eyes were still closed and i’m sure it was holding its breath too. i’m sure it viewed that broken glass i threw away as its last straw. what more could i break? what couldn’t i break? what was deemed unbreakable and why when it meets my hands it does what it promised not to do? what wrath is it of mine? i just wanted to say that recently, i learned that freedom is a state of mind and freedom is a way of the mind and freedom is only freedom when i find it in myself. that’s all i was trying to say. but, tonight, i broke a glass to feel nothing. i had much greater things to say. but got turned around by bits and pieces of sharp edges and ongoing permission for blood to see this dim lightbulb in this compacted room that i was trying to find freedom in. but, tonight, i broke a glass. tonight, i cleaned up broken glass. i walked back into this weary room and my ability to feel finally opened its eyes. did i have to break a glass tonight? i could’ve broken myself down tonight, but instead, i broke a glass, not even on purpose, but i don’t break myself on purpose either. has it always been me or the glass? was i ready to break down freedom? was i ready to understand freeing myself? can i say that breaking that glass saved me from beating myself up about how i haven’t chosen to be free yet? tonight, i had planned on opening wounds, to free myself from them. instead, i broke a glass and lost my ability to feel for about 17 minutes. i could’ve cut myself and been fine, or the glass could’ve stayed put together.
tonight, i broke a glass.