Hopes and Fears

In our lives there will always be hopes and fears popping in and out of our heads. Some nights they dance about as I try to shut my eyes and scatter about the room as I toss and turn, trying to settle my mind. When I wake up I’m in a daze before they come rushing back.

I try to wake up feeling excited versus anxious, about the things to come. I try not to think of the ever-growing list of things I need to do for the day and take my time getting ready. Still by the time I realize I’m running behind schedule, these hopes and fears are there waiting by the door. I try to keep them locked up but they must have figured out how to climb through the window.

No matter. I can always stick my headphones in and ignore them. The music will drown them out…although I do like the hopes very much, so I let them dance while I walk to the rhythm of the morning. They’re warm like the sun and brush gently across my skin. They make my heart pound heavily, but the heaviness is nice…it lets me know that I’m still alive and as I get lost in my hopes I pull out my phone and suddenly fear sinks its teeth into me.

Being late, not having things done, forgetting something back at home…all of the little fears that poke and pick at me throughout the day. Sometimes it’s easy to ignore them and other times I can’t. I think about kicking them, or stomping on them…but at the same time being so carefree isn’t always a good thing. Things need to get done. I have places I need to go, people I need to meet, work I need to finish…and the ever-growing list of little fears pushes me to get them done. My heart races when the fears start to slither about. They slip between my ankles, wrap around my throat…they nearly suffocate me…and yet I’m still alive.

My hopes  tug at me and my fears start to pull back. Both clawing at my arms and legs and face. I can’t seem to decide which way to go, so I sit in the grey…and I wait. I procrastinate. I pretend everything is nothing, and that nothing is everything. It’s a numb place to be, and very boring…there’s no music or colour. There are no hopes and no fears…so I let them back in and let the battle begin, until night-time comes again and I begin to dream.

Glass

What do we do, when the ones we care about are broken?

Do we punish the ones who have hurt them? Make them pay for their crimes. Show them what broken really looks like.

Do we try to fix them or do we leave them shattered like broken glass. Millions of a whole sparkling in the dirt.

It is hard to love a broken thing. When things break we replace them…it’s easier than taking the time to mend them. Easier to forget about what is broken. Who is broken. No one wants to be reminded of the things that are broken…the people they have broken.

I saw her broken. She laid there, like glass. Silent…though silence was never something she longed for. I couldn’t touch her. She was sharp. Her shards laid at my feet. I didn’t break her, but I cannot fix her. I don’t know how. I want to. I want what once was. This bond between us, shatter by those who hurt her. Beat her down into the dirt. Shoved their words into her like daggers. Tore apart what was left of her. Somehow she rose. A million pieces. She rose up, still shattered and she glistened in the sun. I couldn’t fix her. I don’t know if she even wanted to be fixed. Perhaps she likes being broken? Perhaps the glass makes her enemies tremble with fear. She is strong, even though she is shattered. Her strength is the greatest sword ever built.


For my dearest and oldest friend.

Stay strong.

–R.