Once a little girl made of glass

There was once a little girl made of glass, but the little girl never told anyone this. She wasn’t made of very strong glass, but if anyone ever hurt her she could hold herself together if she did her best.

And life was hard for this little girl of glass.

Sometimes friends had knives clutched in their hands and the little girl would feel them pierce her in the back as they casually passed by. When they did this, she felt things begin to shatter, her body spider webbing with thin cracks, centering from the knife….but she didn’t care about that friend…she didn’t care….she had never cared….and then she was whole again, the lies working like glue. Except there would always be one tiny crack she couldn’t talk away, no matter how hard she tried.

Sometimes scary things would happen to her. Horribly scary things that only should happen to other people, made scarier by the fact that they were happening to her. And when these awful scary things happened, she felt herself start to splinter again and this time it was harder to put herself back together. Because these things made her entire body quake with grief. These things split her to the heart. But somehow, they did not break her. They left deep crevices she could not heal and they ached her constantly, but they did not break her.

She was so scarred, she knew she must be ugly.

One day the little girl of glass met a very handsome little boy. The little girl and boy became best friends. The little boy was very sweet and she felt some of her scars fade.

Some, but not all; never all.

The little girl loved the boy greatly, and always wanted to tell him just how much.

One day, the little girl whispered to him, anxiety pounding in her heart, “I am made of glass…”

The little boy whispered back, “So am I…”

The little girl was astonished. “But you are so perfect!”

The little boy replied, “So you are. You are beautiful.”

She shook her head. “I have so many scars that make me ugly. Although, I have never broken.”

“I have…” whispered the boy. “All my scars are in my heart. My heart has broken over and over before.”

The little girl and boy sat quietly for a long time.

“I love you,” she said finally.

“I love you too,” he said with a smile. And his heart never shattered again.

Many years later when the little glass girl and the little glass boy weren’t so little anymore, they got married. They still cracked and ached due to life’s ruggedness, but every day when they woke up next to another glass body, they smiled at each other lovingly, as several gashes healed.

One day when they were very old, the glass women stood holding the glass man’s hand and said, “You know, I do not think you and I are very different from other people.”

“Me either,” he said, “I think we are very much the same.”

With that, they shattered in each other’s arms, their remains sprinkling to the ground with small tinkling sounds of joy; as the couple rested together for all eternity. And the old glass woman found that in the end, none of the cracks or crevices had really mattered at all.