glass doors

to all creators, artists, writers, we all have glass doors. we are breaking the glass doors everyday.

i feel as though I have no words left to say. my anxiety has skewered my brain I can’t breathe without feeling some sort of pain. I guess now is where the real test comes in, did I deliver or did I disappoint my younger self at the age of 10. I can’t tell anymore. i’m just waiting on the world to continue to deplore my efforts and throw hurdles as I jump through hoops and get better. the oxygen I inhale doesn’t pass through my lungs the same anymore. what do I know about the human body, I can just feel it ricochet more than it ever did before. my feet planted on the floor I take steps one at a time to make sure I don’t trip over glass doors. glass doors. I can see the future but the glass won’t break so I pick and I pull and I throw rocks to escape. I throw stones and I trip over shards of glass on my bedroom floor reaching for the moon I’m still looking for.