This, too, will pass.
15 years ago
0
Broken Glass
Since several months back, I have been going through a rough patch.
As I look back, I can only describe it to an analogy of a broken glass.
Have you ever had a favorite glass? Be it a cup or decorative or otherwise, one that carries a lot of meaning to you and you treasure it very much?
I have. Or rather, I had.
Then one day, for some reason or other, my glass broke into pieces.
I was so sad. My favorite glass shattered.
But I couldn't find a way to discard it, so I tried to put it back together.
However, it is not the same glass as before. I don't think it can ever be.
It didn't look as good as before, but I can live with it. It is my favorite anyway.
Then, unfortunately, another blow came and shattered my pieced-back glass into even smaller pieces.
Even though it broke my heart, I still can't find a way to part with the glass, so again, I picked up the shards and tried very hard to put it back together.
This went on for a couple more times; with each time the broken shards became smaller as I tried harder to put all the tiny pieces back together. And the smaller the broken shards, the more cuts I sustain from piecing back the glass, the more blood I bled from my fingers and my hands.
Then one day, I finally realized my hands were bleeding profusely.
In my blind focus of piecing back my favorite glass, I didn't see the cuts of the glass in my hands.
I didn't see the blood that was bleeding from the cuts.
I was simply desperate to salvage my favorite glass.
I didn't realize that by clutching on harder to the increasingly smaller shards, I was hurting myself more.
For the first time, I realized the bleeding hurt more than losing my favorite glass.
And then, I released my clutch on the glass.
I let go of the broken glass.
I let the glass pieces fall.
But this time, I didn't pick it up again.
I don't know which hurt more; the profuse falling of my tears or the profuse bleeding of my hands.
I don't know whether I should have worked harder to save my favorite glass.
But I want to stop bleeding. I want to start healing.
That's why I released my hold.
What would you do with your broken glass?
～みはる～
As I look back, I can only describe it to an analogy of a broken glass.
Have you ever had a favorite glass? Be it a cup or decorative or otherwise, one that carries a lot of meaning to you and you treasure it very much?
I have. Or rather, I had.
Then one day, for some reason or other, my glass broke into pieces.
I was so sad. My favorite glass shattered.
But I couldn't find a way to discard it, so I tried to put it back together.
However, it is not the same glass as before. I don't think it can ever be.
It didn't look as good as before, but I can live with it. It is my favorite anyway.
Then, unfortunately, another blow came and shattered my pieced-back glass into even smaller pieces.
Even though it broke my heart, I still can't find a way to part with the glass, so again, I picked up the shards and tried very hard to put it back together.
This went on for a couple more times; with each time the broken shards became smaller as I tried harder to put all the tiny pieces back together. And the smaller the broken shards, the more cuts I sustain from piecing back the glass, the more blood I bled from my fingers and my hands.
Then one day, I finally realized my hands were bleeding profusely.
In my blind focus of piecing back my favorite glass, I didn't see the cuts of the glass in my hands.
I didn't see the blood that was bleeding from the cuts.
I was simply desperate to salvage my favorite glass.
I didn't realize that by clutching on harder to the increasingly smaller shards, I was hurting myself more.
For the first time, I realized the bleeding hurt more than losing my favorite glass.
And then, I released my clutch on the glass.
I let go of the broken glass.
I let the glass pieces fall.
But this time, I didn't pick it up again.
I don't know which hurt more; the profuse falling of my tears or the profuse bleeding of my hands.
I don't know whether I should have worked harder to save my favorite glass.
But I want to stop bleeding. I want to start healing.
That's why I released my hold.
What would you do with your broken glass?
～みはる～
By
Miharu
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