BetteJo — Bubbles

Glass Bubbles

I am surrounded by glass bubbles…

But only for as long as they can live.

When they hit the floor, they shatter into a million pieces.

Beyond repair.

The bubbles represent my efforts to create my own happiness.

I have days when I am surrounded by emptiness.

No bubbles around me.

Nothing.

No matter how much I try to create new bubbles, I fail.

I feel raw, naked, sensitive and vulnerable.

I placed my tattered heart in a glass armour.

And let me just tell you...

This is real.

No one can tell me any different.

I feel broken.

Again.