All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Crying Over Spilled Glass
I would get invited out whenever something was happening.
Hell, we didn’t need a reason
We were young, the world was ours, nothing could kill us.
So very basic of us.
Each time I was having the time of my life.
But only now have I realised that every time
Every glass of wine
Every shot I have taken
Every drunken conversation
Every moment of what I thought was fun
Was like a crack on glass.
It creeps on you slowly
You never notice until it starts affecting your perception
Or how you view the damaged item.
Just some wine to get us started
And we could go all night long
Doing party favours
Spending money like we have it.
But the high leaves you
And you face reality.
You look in the broken mirror
Can you recognise yourself?
Suddenly you’re not sixteen anymore
And you panic.
But you looked happy
You laughed yesterday
You have no reason to cry.
Party people don’t get hurt .
How fucking blind people can be.
I want people to want me
Sober me.
I’m tired of feeling broken
Putting on the mask exhausts me.
But I perfected that art of disguise
Do I know who I really am anymore?
I scream for help but it’s muffled by fear.
Now the glass of wine is filled with blood
Shot glasses full of tears
We talk about how broken we are
It’s not fun anymore
But it’s the same people
We just drained the bottle of happiness
The fragile glass leg snapped
Will we follow?
I’m not sixteen anymore
The glass broke
The mask fell off
Time to get better.
What does it mean?
I got so used to tears rolling down my face
Cause I’m pretty when I cry.
Emotional intimacy helped me
Someone gave me a taste
Shared their demons
It was like tasting whisky for the first time
Smokey, mysterious, it burns your insides but you want more.
Turned out he was worse than me
And I wished to be his crutch.
He said he never needed one
He pushed me away.
But he says we will be better
I have regained control
For now.
I don’t cry myself to sleep
I destroy myself in other ways -
I wait. I haven’t lost hope yet.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.