i had this dream where i was locked in a glass room, gasping for air with thick fingers wrapped tight around my throat. the streets outside were crowded, people stared and screamed, but no one ever tried to break the glass.
that's how monday mornings feel, walking down halls filled with well-meaning people who would help if they knew how. i am a butterfly pinned, broken and bright and iridescent, and you cannot look away but what can you do? i cannot ask anyone to stick shattered shards into their skin just to step between me and an oncoming train. i want no one else's knuckles broken for my safety. sometimes the wolves outsmart the shepherds, and i am softer than i seem and not built to fight forever.
in my dream, i kicked my boot bottom-first through the glass and sprinted a path through the crowd, ****** and breathless and bruised and alive because i know when to stop waiting for things to make sense. sometimes the monsters are stronger than you'd hoped and some things are not worth holding onto.
i stopped seeing the shame in running for my life the day i ran out of other options.