Tag Archives: metaphors of me

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Get To Know Me!

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I am shattered glass, the fragments of a soul clinging to life

I am shattered glass, pieces of me litter the floor – paining every step you take towards me. Stay away.

I am shattered glass, the remnants of when you, in a flash of violent red, left me broken.

I am shattered glass, obscuring the vision of whomever looks through me – distorting the truth and presenting a new one, filled with tiny cracks threatening to crumble under one’s gaze.

I am shattered glass, the same glass that gave someone seven years bad luck – like a mirror.

I am shattered glass, and when the light hits me perfectly I become a rainbow of colors – but only when the light hits me just right.

I am shattered glass, who makes you bleed but leaves a faint stain of red blood on my edges.

I am shattered glass the brokenness left behind after a long night.

I am shattered glass who falls into dust at a mere punch. Only appearing strong when I am whole, when I am a window, when I am a window into other’s lives or a mirror reflecting other’s beauty.

I am shattered glass.

There is a girl who is shattered glass – so she thinks.

There is a girl whose voice gets lost among the sea of students that push up against her back, edging her closer and closer to wherever she needs to be – not ever where she wants to be.

There is a girl whose friends leave her texts unanswered,  thus forcing her to appear too “clingy” when all she wanted to know was how their day was going.

There is a girl whose eyes trace the endless words on the page – she isn’t reading, she’s travelling.

There is a girl whose escape is a page of a novel.

There is a girl who fears failure, whose greatest fear is of that where she was seen as a bright sprite whilst young but as a ghost stuck in an endless daydream of work, stuck in a job she hates as time dissipates  – a failure.

There is a girl who struggles to articulate the words that dance in her mind.

There is a girl who wishes she could walk up to her lover and tell him the truth.

There is a girl who sits in her room at night – under the cover of her duvet, with a flashlight clutched in her hand. She is a girl who is skimming the pages of a novel relishing in the comfort of the words that whisper in her ear.

There is a girl who wishes she would stop being so shattered – shattered glass.

 

I’ve never really known who I am, perhaps this is why I feel as though my “about me” is more about how I feel rather than who I am. Who is Victoria? Who am I? I don’t know who I am, but I do know that I am a 16-year-old girl who is in the midst of discovering just that. Maybe in my future when I am applying for jobs I will – probably not though (to be honest) – be able to come up with a coherent string of words that manage to encompass who I am; however, for now you’ll just get stuck with who I think I am as of right now. I am a girl stuck in her endless daydream – trying to figure out just how this world works.

All the Love,

The girl with the endless daydream.

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