top of page
Writer's picturePositive Outluke

Broken Glass

I watch with fearful anticipation as the glass begins to shatter.


Clink, clink, clink.


Tiny chinks in my armour – in this shield of glass – threaten to accumulate, to form something terrible.


A crack.


A crack through which the world outside can squeeze in like foul air, clogging my bubble up with pain and sadness and laughter and happiness. Something so foreign that I could swell up and burst at any moment, something so heavy that I could be crushed under its weight in an instant. Perhaps I should let the glass break slowly? Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad? Maybe I could take in this strange world a bit at a time? I know all about graded exposure therapy; I seem to know a lot about many things. I see the workings of the world clearly. I see the victories and failures. I watch from above, like some alien, some foreign being. Some stranger. I’m always observing, trying my best to understand. I’m rarely feeling, trying not to get too caught up.


Would I really be prepared to let it all break down now? I’ve always been able to fix the glass… After all, I’m the one who built it when the world got too scary and too big and too bright. It’s not too late to stay.


It’s not too late.


Not too late to leave my bubble – because it’s not the air outside that’s suffocating me; it’s this enclosed space where the oxygen is running low and I don’t know how long I can go before it’s gone, before I lose myself inside my own head.


No. This has to stop.


Suddenly I feel myself throwing it all aside, set into action by something stronger than myself; the crying of a baby, the hustle and bustle of a city, the laughter of my friends and family. I cast aside the fears that have trapped me here, just for a moment, and the light spills through unfiltered and raw noises flood in like a tidal wave packed with litres and litres of emotion. Powerful enough to drown me.


But I’m strong enough to stay afloat. I just need to take my time I need to turn away I need to run I need to…


Breathe.


Breathe in… 4 seconds… Hold it… 7 seconds… Breathe out… 8 seconds…


And I find myself standing there, blinking ferociously in the presence of a brilliant light. Maybe I don’t need protection anymore, because there’s nothing to protect me as the waves lap at me, the breeze brushing my skin with its long, cold fingers. Slender digits snag at the edge of my every flaw and insecurity and the holes are torn wider, wider, ever more visible. Still, I’m okay.


I’m okay, despite being face to face with the things I’ve feared for so long; everyday conversations that once felt like interrogations, hugs that once smothered me, from which I’d hurry to escape. Today, for the first time in a long time, I've sat and I've talked for hours. Not to brag, but my hugs have had some pretty good feedback too!


So my systems may be down and my defences may be weakened, but I’m not on my own. Nobody seems to mind the fact that I’m a Martian, banished to some strange and unfamiliar land. The people here are my allies, and they’re my friends, and they’re my family. I wasn’t born to be alone…


Nobody is meant to be alone.


I understand that, now that we’re walking side by side. Nobody is perfect, but that shouldn’t scare us. We can only be our best, and we can only try to bring out the best in others. Who cares if our laugh is a little too loud, or our smile is a little too toothy? Who cares if we come across as a bit too much, or seem to communicate too little? Who cares if our hair is a bit messy, or if we didn’t have time to do our makeup this morning?


“They’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”


It’s always said of spiders, and perhaps it’s true of people too. I bear this in mind as we navigate this new and treacherous terrain.


Because spiders have never scared me... So maybe there’s nothing to be afraid of after all?

35 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

ED Science #1: Introduction

Hi there! My name is Luke Evans, a 1st year biomedical sciences student at Cardiff University & a Beat Young Ambassador; a role I...

Comments


bottom of page