We are all glass.
Some of us are bulletproof; you can see the pockmarks and scars left by those who tried to break through. You can see the remnants of how they tried again and again to break through, but failed.
Some of us are stained glass, fragile, colourful, and attractive. Seams of strength breaking up the various parts of our personality, giving a unique and artful overall impression.
Some of us are yellowed by age, filthy with experience. Any cracks are hidden by layers upon layers of life-earned dust.
Some of us bear bevelled edges, catching and playing with the light to create prismatic rainbows for those around us. Colouring the world in which we live with character while remaining nondescript ourselves.
Some of us only look out and never allow others to look in. Some of us reflect back on others what they see in themselves while remaining hidden within ourselves.
Some of our most flawless become invisible and forgotten as perfection is sought to become the norm.
Some of us are made to shatter at the slightest impact, but in so breaking, bring harm to none but ourselves. The most rigid among us, when broken, slice and slash out, damaging irreparably the people nearest them.
We are, all of us, glass.
We need only find the person who finds our patterns and reflections, cracks and drafts, flawlessness and imperfection, strength and fragility, beautiful.
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