Under Glass

As a child, I lived with my family under the glass cover of a dessert tray, on a pedestal, for everyone to see and for us to see them.  But actual contact with others was never made because the glass cover was never lifted off.

The rules inside the glass dome were different than the rules outside: smile always, for god’s sake obey, stay on your leash, do not have a personality. My father indirectly threatened physical harm should the rules be broken; my mother was a model student and trained me, the disciple, well.

I thought the world under the glass was the real world.  I didn’t know I was trapped under glass.

When I got older, my body was able to leave the glass dome.  But my mind stayed inside of it.

And because my mind was still under the glass, I interacted with the outside world behind a glass wall.

Always an impenetrable wall between me and the real world.

I didn’t know the wall was there.  I thought that because I could see out, that there was no wall.

I lived my life that way. Under glass, enforced at first by my parents and then by my own mind.

But there isn’t much oxygen under a glass dome.

And sooner or later, you start to die on the inside. And when you’re dying on the inside, it’s only a matter of time before your body has to die, too.

And you have to find a way out, to get oxygen, to breathe, to live.

You have to realize that the glass wall is there.

And I do. And I’m getting out from under it, a little bit at a time.



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