Is it my heart or my head that weighs heavy? I am trapped in an introspective maze for the introverted. A place familiar; however there is no clear way out. To have visited this chamber frequently, it would seem most logical I would know of its exits, but I am stricken by the beauty of the outside as I lean myself against the leaded glass window. I can’t move. Some days I peer behind the delicate fabric of the once white laced curtains, stained yellow in time, to watch. I watch from this window. I make my bed underneath it. I read by this window and I breathe into it. I have lost myself here, or perhaps I have found myself, a silhouette of grace, broken and vanished. A departing of the impossible, yet it is the only thing real to me, for it is all I know. It is a window I have named responsibility. It is my reflection that reflects back to me and reminds me every viciously vile day I live a life of mere cautiousness. There are times in which I want to throw my book at this window, or a chair, perhaps even myself, to break out of this richly blanketed hollow I have rested in most of my life, and to step out of the realism of the privileged and to taste the enticements of the common. My hands gripped. There is a cross in the road. I cannot be something I am not. I was not designed to be a common. Burning heat against my face, my eyes scorched by the presence of the formality of the foreignness, I reach out, but turn away. I can only continue to stand behind the leaded glass window, gazing from its timeless frame, acknowledging what cannot be mine.
Image Credit: Girl in Window by Clayton O’Brien