Glass house I escaped to find true love in through my teenage dreams.

“What are the advantages of living in a glass house?” He asks me.

When the sun is shining, I can always feel it, I can see what’s going on around me, and I’m as close to being part of nature as you can get.

“I assume you ask because as a teenager I wanted to live in a glass house in the middle of the ocean…?” I say to him.

“That’s correct.” He responds back as if he’s analyzing me and my past like a doctor.

All I remember is this,  a scene from my young mind. It was me lying in bed with a man. I was in love. We were in a glass house in the middle of the ocean. I put my hands on his chest and looked up at him, but I can’t remember his face or I can’t see it. I was happy and content.

Reason enough?

“Well it’s not convincing to me, but go ahead, post it!” he says and laughs a nervous and wild laugh.

I read it all back to him.

“I’m not stupid.” He says this as if anyone has implied he is. Then he laughs again. He then says something about a magnifying glass.

I know the feeling I write. It’s like living in a glass house under the sea.

The interesting part is ‘escape.’ I wanted to escape, so I dreamt of a place with true love floating in the sea. My innocent mind missed the terror of being watched through glass. However, life has taught me the real disadvantages of living in a glass house over the years.

I was a beautiful and naive girl who trusted when I awoke in a glass house at bay.

Shattered dreams is the answer. Nothing more, nothing less.