Glasshouse

There is this girl I know, quite a normal girl. She spends her life working and going out, and working a bit more. she found herself this man, he suits her perfectly. He is the only man who's really ever listened to her and to whom she can tell everything to, and not be worried that he's going to think that it's strange. A lot of things she says she ends with 'it's a bit wierd I can't do that, isn't it?' and he usually says 'that's not wierd, it's just you.'
She likes the way he says this, like he accepts everything about her just like it's so.

Sometimes, just sometimes though, this girl feels like maybe she can't accept the same way back. Like he does this, or he does that, and because of this maybe they aren't meant to be together. Then it scares her. Most the time she thinks that she's being silly, but those moments occur in the early morning when she wakes up by his side, and watches him breathing and hopes he doesn't wake and spoil the moment. She could spend hours just watching his face...yet still sometimes she likes him better when he's sleeping and he can be everything she needs rather than when he's awake and he has a mind and needs of his own.
This girl knows that she shouldn't feel like that but she also knows that's just her.

The girl always finds it incredibly hard to say things like this, it makes her feel like that someone will want to leave her. Like this next fault will be the one that'll make this boy leave, like he'll finally see what she's really like and then that'll be it. At the moment when he's sleeping he's still in the dark and that's why she likes it. Eyelids flickering against skin.

Sometimes she feels like she's sat at the very top of a tall glass-fronted building and in front of her is the landscape of her whole life, laid out there. She can see off into the distance of places she's been a long time ago. parks she sat in, benches she sat on. She can't see what's coming up ahead though - it's just too sheer a drop in front of her and it's masked by the rest of the building. She has a feeling she knows what's down there though, but then she could one day see it and it'll be different to how she's always imagined it. In fact it's already looking a bit different to how she imagined it, say last year. She wants to open the window and peer out of it, feel the wind on her face, shout down at the ant-people scurrying around oblivious to her thoughts below. But also she is just a little scared of heights, and she feels if she opens the window too wide then maybe she'll end up falling out, and that'll be the last of her. She often feels like there is this pane of glass in front of her and everything she does, and she wants to smash it up, smash it to smithereens.

This girl holds now in her hand a hammer, she just has to work up the courage to use it.