[identity profile] 47thlight.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] tamingthemuse
Title: Glass Walls
Prompt: #322 "That which does not kill us makes us old and cranky before our time"
Genre(s): Drama
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 561
Summary: She struggles to be who she is because no one wants to know
Notes: Tough to write, but inspired by recent struggles that I had to get out

Glass Walls


Cramped in this room that was her point of freedom from the worries of the world, she isolated herself within a realm of comfort. Surrounded by books, games and pillows, it was all she needed to feel happy.

Her dreams would return now and again like a seasonal cold, sparking her imagination to explore new heights and tackle great feats. But she faltered regularly, submitting herself to failure and any destination affiliated with loss.

She wanted to be like them – the heroes she admired from her youth. To make them proud and do the praise she gave them proper justice. How she loved to extol them so!

But she was a misery to herself, inconclusive and subdued around those that loved her. She would scream out “You don’t even know me!!”, but she wasn’t so sure she knew herself anymore.

Who was being lied to – her family, or her heart? “You’re such a failure. You can’t make anyone happy, especially yourself. Damn it, figure this out! Go back to being you!”

She beat her fist into the book in her lap, attempting to punish the words that were only offering temporary escape from her reality. They weren’t enough, these fantasies she’d put herself in daily. Nothing seemed to connect any more no matter how hard she tried.

Pain reached her chest as she sobbed, clenching her fingers around the lump that had been causing her discomfort all summer. Suddenly she wished that it was a threatening cancer that would end her life quietly, liberating those around her of the burden she had become.

To be dead and no longer of this earth seemed like an ideal way to be, but what of those left in her wake? The financial struggles her family would face tying up the loose ends made her shake her head, dismissing the barely played with notion.

They said she was angry and solitary anyway, so maybe it was better that she disappear completely. “You need help,” they told her, but she bitterly rejected the thought.

“I don’t need help! I’m fine! You just don’t know me!”

They didn’t know her. She was someone else that they didn’t want to know. Inspired by the fictitious and the historical, she held none of their interest. And thus the solitude began. “They don’t care like they say they do. If they did, they’d make an effort to ask questions about what I enjoy, not just what I do to pay the bills.”

Her passion for creativity disarmed, she returned to her book. “Get me away from here. Let’s go away somewhere. I don’t care where. Just take me away.”

She turned a page, lost in the words and in the scene they created. It was such a perfect world, full of adventure and drama. She wondered briefly if she would spend the rest of her life living in another world to free herself of the complete isolation her reality brought upon her. Her invisible dome of safety had been erected to protect her from being hurt again, but she never thought she’d have to use it on her own family.

Within invisible glass walls she watched her life go on in an endless cycle of ups and downs, the feeling of security keeping her sane. “As long as I’m in here, I’m safe. I won’t leave this place.”
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