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it is easy for me to break a glass and say it was because the glass was slippery. it is hard for me to admit it broke because my grip is weak. it is almost impossible for me to decide which is truth.

dropping glass to the ground, i am careless. people are glass, we break. people are also people, we are careless. 

i cringe when i imagine the shatter of glass- i liken it to the sound one would hear when bones cave in, crumbling like a building under the immeasurable weight of a broken heart. i do not wish to know what it feels like to fall, but i am morbidly curious. maybe one day i will learn, maybe i won’t.

i have this feeling, one similar to dropping a glass- in the time it takes from your hand and to the ground, there are three stages. 1) panic- realization that my fingers no longer have domain on you. 2) helplessness- anxiety that what comes next i cannot prevent. 3) anticipation if this time will be louder than the last. 

i think we are in stage 2.