Chains of Glass- Part 1

Sometimes, several times, I think I saw evil in me.

I hadn’t grown up in a bubble; I was raised in an enormous oblong glass box. The extraordinary thing about this glass box was that I could see everything of the world without. But to that world, I was completely invisible. The box was impermeable, it was impossible for me to shine in the radiance that showered around it. The glass simply reflected its bright glares. None of the beams reached within.

But that never really bothered me, I was too busy looking outside. There was too much light inside the box already, and the glass just trapped it within. And almost always, it fluoresced.

Yet, sometimes, many times, I think I saw darkness- outside, inside, and either time- in me.

If I had had a desire, even just a slight yearning, to shatter this glass that interposed, like I wall, between me and this world outside, this glorious existence that I could only see, sometimes smell, almost taste, but never feel- it wouldn’t have been sinful.

It’s not sinful to crave what you don’t have. It’s human. For as alluring as this world was to me, I knew, and I could tell by the lust in their eyes, that this invisible sanctuary of mine was something they could die for, and they did.

In that was my sin.

When I was a child, the bad times drifted past. I later learned there were several, but my memory could hold only a few. Those it did, I accepted. It didn’t matter whether it was losing a parent or moving into a large glass box. I simply accepted, maybe a little too easily.

In our world, outside the glass boxes scattered miscellaneously, there are always bad times. Or in other words, times are always bad. As you grow, you become more sensitive to pain, to sorrow, to despair. There is so much of it to feel in this world. Too much. It’s unbearable.

Wars were raged, are raging and even now, are promised to be raged, from north to south, east to west. Then when they get bored of their enemy, the wars still rage, this time north to west, east to south. Peace is nowhere, not in any country I’ve heard of. Their wars only rattled the serenity within our sanctuary of a glass box. 

(...to be continued...)
- Bushra

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