Broken Window Panes
Saturday, October 14th, 2006It’s happened again. A loud clash caught my attention as I twirl around quickly to see another glass fall off its place on the window pane and landed on the ground, splattering into millions of shredded glass. I walked towards it once again, careful not to cut my bare feet. But it was hard not to, and when I reached the broken window to look out at the person outside who had thrown the stone, my feet was already sore, bleeding.
I sighed at the look at the familiar figure. The same eyes, the same expression. He wasn’t looking my way, he would never look into my eyes and see the tears rolling down my cheek. I wished he would. Every time he would wait at the same spot after he threw the stone and break a piece of glass from my window pane. He would wait for me to call out to him: "HEY! YOU NAUGHTY FELLOW! WHY DID YOU BREAK MY GLASS?" and he would grin back mischeiviously before bowing 90 degrees, bids me sorry before running off, dissapearing from my sight.
The next time he appears again, maybe he would bring me back some baskets of fruits, cookies or my favorite chocolate-spread. We would chat, have fun, and grow fonder of each other before it happens again. Before he throws a stone and break my window. No, I’m sure he isn’t doing that on purpose, maybe the conscious him doesn’t even know what he was doing. But he does it. And then he would wait again… He would wait for me to tidy up all the broken piece of glass, get a new one and mend the old before scrubbing it until it’s sparkling clean. And he would expect the call from me to him, asking why did he break my window.
I have always been calling out to him after I’ve done all the cleaning up…I have always been cleaning up the mess… alone…And I have always been letting him throw stones and break my window, again and again. Because I really like him as who he is, for who he is and for everything else that he has done for me. And because I’ve treated him for what I think he is… "a close friend." Someone whom I’ve let walked pass my guard wolf-dogs, my garden of poisoined black roses, and into the safety zone… right outside my little cottage door. If he brings me more chocolate-spread that I can put on my bread for breakfast, maybe I’ll consider letting him come into my cottage the next time he comes. But… he’s been throwing stones too many times.
Grasp it if you want it
I am not your medicine
I am not your pair of warm slippers
nor I am your favorite childhood story book you tugged under your bed.
I am a person, or what you call "A friend". No… you call me your "close friend."
So. prove it…
Prove my existance as what you named me.
I have done every bit of my capability to show and prove your existance.
Friendship is mutual.
Now it’s your turn.
…If he chooses to wait, like what he has done in the past. Then I’ll make my last move. He’s walked too far in and he made a mistake to throw a stone and break pieces of the glass. So I’ll have to invite him to step a few steps further out. We will still be friends that’s for sure. I wouldn’t want to lose a friend just like that. I still need that connection, who knows on what purpose I might need it in the future.
It’s enough… It’s not the first time
I’ve mended too many broken glasses and my back aches just doing all the picking-up work. It’s not hard for me to make the first move actually…to call out to him…not hard for me to pretend that nothing much had happened and that I am fine… and that another few stones thrown at me is nothing. But whether do I want or not, is another matter.
Yea. I will try to not let myself turn my back on him though…He would be the last person that I want to turn my back on. I think I’ve told him that some time ago when he apologize after I called out to him… "I wouldn’t want to stay mad at you forever lar… hehe… I couldn’t…" But now I’m already doubting myself. Could I?
Change is constant.
I’m kinda worried though… If I stay mad at him, is actually a good sign… It means I still "Care." But what if I stop caring…
He meant such a big deal, he was such a great friend
and now I’m using past tense…
This is not the first time it’s happening.
It’s so tiring…
mending broken window panes.
I looked down at the pool of shredded glass I stand upon before my eyes laid upon my sore feet, the old scars plaiting its way up my leg. Heaving a heavy sigh, I looked out again at the figure standing outside my cottage door. What shall I do… what should I do…