Dear Impossible Broken Dreamers.
Impossible creatures made of spun glass. You’re a dichotomy of strength and vulnerability. Easily breakable, teetering on the edge of shattering.
Over and over.
But there is such strength to you. Such steel beneath your spun glass exterior, at the core of you, you’ve been forged in the fire.
Shaped and molded beneath such spellbinding pain. Withstanding the pressure time and again.
Dipped in the flames, twisted and shaped.
Beautiful stunning spun glass creatures.
No would know or see or feel, what laces together beneath your beauty. What it took to have you look so smooth.
And right. And pretty. And perfect.
Spun glass heroes.
Light dancing within the shadows that live deep beneath your skin.
Delicate. Seemingly breakable. Beautiful ethereal creatures, they see the beauty, but never what lies beneath.
To have been forged, pieces of our fragile selves broken and then re-knit or shattered beyond repair, that we become something new.
Steel beneath delicate glass. They don’t see what lives beneath our delicate shell.
But we do. We see each other. We recognize a person that has been touched by darkness or had darkness strike close beneath our skin, branding us, breaking cracks in our delicate glass.
But we forge it and we fire it. We smooth over the cracks, we lie to those around us. Pretend that we are fine.
We are delicately spun glass, with lies beneath our shells, spines made of steel, as we fight and play and relish our darkness. Dancing with the flitting shadows that live in our soul.
We smooth out our delicate soft glass, and force the world to see what lies on the surface. To never know what breathes beneath.
Maybe we feel breakable, unlovable, unfixable.
We don’t see the beauty and strength that it takes to withstand the process of continuing to stand.
Of containing our darkness, but projecting light. Of fighting, and pushing, and kicking the darkness back.
We are delicate spun glass creatures. But we are also made of steel. We spin in the twilight, the darkness encroaching but the light fighting to slip through and dance beside the dark.
We are brave souls, who fight and live. Break and re-build. Forged in the fire again and again.
Dear Impossible Dreamers.
You are strong. Beautiful. Impossible creatures. With spun glass surrounding you, but steel beneath, keeping you.
I for one am entirely proud to be apart of this strongly beautiful, impossible, powerful group.
Embrace all the things that make you – you. Take ahold of the beauty of being strange, of being impossible, and never let it go.
Black Sheep Girl