Behind A Glass

A Story by Fluffyy

He pounded on the glass as hard as he can and stopped once his fists started hurting. He broke down into tears and sank to the floor. It was hopeless to try to escape anyway. It was a closed square made of transparent glass. A cage. It was uncountable how long he had been in there. Didn’t know how he got there, didn’t know when he got there, didn’t know who put him there. He was just there.

He could only sit inside and watch. Watch his life happen before his eyes. No one seemed to notice that he was gone, no one cared. He had become a completely different person and no one, absolutely no one, paid attention. He watched closely though, he put his face close to the glass, not missing a single detail that went on on the outside. It was hard, though, because of the physical barrier.

There was not a time when he did not want to get out, but he didn’t know how. He remembered being able to be with all his friends. He would laugh, and have fun. He was able to feel emotions such as content and excitement. He had the pleasure of being able to touch, to feel a pencil in his hand, to write on a paper, watch his fluent cursive writing flow, to draw, to create art using strokes controlled by his hand and lower arm. He could play soccer, kicked the ball as hard as he wanted and see it go so far, so far that he spent half an hour walking to fetch it back. He was able to feel the smooth texture of hair, the satisfaction received when combing through it. He would look like something, his hand, the grass, an old book, they would be right in front of him. Now? All that he felt, the only thing he is still capable of feeling, are anger, frustration, stress, and sadness. His moods and way of thinking flipped. Everything turned upside down. All he could do was watch the objects from afar, thinking of all the amazing things he would be able to do and create with them.

There are times when he would wake at night inside the glass cube to the pain of seizures and completely freeze in the spot for a solid few minutes. He wouldn’t be able to move. All he could do was bite his lips and wait for the time to past. After a few minutes, the pain all goes away. It was almost like a side effect of being in the cage for too long. He couldn’t control it.

Beyond his desperation of getting out, he was aware of a few good sides of being in the cage. He didn’t need to think so much about what was going on anymore. He no longer cared so much. Things weren’t able to upset him. Nothing could hurt him, nothing other than his own thoughts.

He was separated from the world. Being in the world, but not of the world.

Alone.

He was left, to be consumed alive by his own thoughts.

Behind a glass.