One Day Diary

 

I see a dusky window in my dream. It’s frosted, but I can see through it. Shapes blur this glass, familiar, yet detached. I creep closer to this pane, creating condensation with my cold breath. I see familiar faces smiling through the glass that separates us. I see my best friend, seemingly sullen, with an unknown figure. But as the figure turns towards the thin veil I hide behind, I see my friend’s face light up. It’s a picture worth a thousand words. Compassionate, loving, fleeting…right?

I see the face of the unknown figure. The boy that darts through my dreams nightly, while entrancing me throughout the day. Sculpted in a way of beauty, yet with flaws that seemed only to empower him further. I smoulder under his gaze, awaiting his smile to reach the one that was now growing upon me. But his eyes don’t register me. I start to wonder if anyone can see me through this glass.

I press my hand against the pane, feeling the moisture on my fingertips. The gaze I want to have upon me has reached my friend. Her pessimistic expression has already suddenly changed into one of sanctity as she registers the figures presence. I claw at the glass, suddenly feeling lived.

My nails dig into the pain harder as the seconds pass, creating scratches that only I can see. They are shallow, not growing deeper as I dug harder, awaiting a sudden crack of glass. But on closer inspection, the glass is growing thicker with each nick. It’s suddenly growing at an alarming rate, caving in on me, and I scream out, desperately awaiting the help of my friends. They all seem to turn, as if they heard me, but see nothing. Their eyes skim past my face as I scream, backing into a shallow corner of sullen disparities.

The glass is pressing on me, pushing me further backwards. My fingers are no longer riddled with moisture, but with perspiration. As I try and push the thickening glass back, my hands continually slip and flail on the looking glass. The frost on the pane then clears, and I scream out again. This time, they notice me. A thousand bodies rushing towards the glass, fingers outlining the grazes I made, reaching out for me.

But the glass darkens, smog from a candle, and I fade in my corner.