Social Short Story – The Cracks In My Window
Photo credit: robenmarie from morguefile.com
I feel new. I feel fresh. The world is mine to conquer. I want to live and this is my world. My head is abuzz with positivity and I haven’t even slipped out of bed yet. I look outside my window, and feel the warmth of the bright golden sunlight that streams through the window. The cracks in my window resemble that of a spider’s web. It reminds me of beauty in this chaotic universe. The cracks, which usually get me down, remind me that I’m lucky to be a part of this beautiful world.
I head into the shower. The water is cold and it washes through me, jolting my doomed spirit into a sense of hope. I grab my tie and put on my clothes, ready to work. Ready to make a difference.
I get to work in silent joy, ignoring the busy and depressing streets around me. People are moving, people in suits of gray, black and brown and clothes of various shades. Yet, the color seems to contrast the shades of their faces. They walk about with no sense of awareness to the beauty that surrounds them. They don’t know that every step they take, every move they make, every decision is a result of the beautiful chaos around them. They don’t know about the beautiful cracks in the window. They don’t stop to wonder, because cracks are broken windows and broken windows have no meaning. They don’t have a window, hence they do not and cannot look outside and see the beauty that surrounds them.
I reach my building, my workplace and well wishes are given to everyone. They wish me back, sometimes not even bothering to look back at me, busy in their work, not because they are eager to do their job, but because their work pays for their lifestyle. Money drives them and it drives them recklessly. I quietly am grateful that I do not work for money, but for my job. I spent the rest of my day in peace and quiet apprehension of the world around me.
The end of the day approaches and I’m ready to leave. My coworkers go for a birthday party, while I head off to the beach, to look at a certain giant ball of fire, setting in the orange sky, shining its lights into another part of the world. I sit there, with the cold breeze hitting my face, looking into the horizon.
I head home, proud of myself and my productive day. I head home and have my dinner. I go to bed, sure of myself, sure of success and sure of the future.
I wake up next morning. I am happy and content. I feel cheerful and lively, despite my slightly aching muscles. I head to the shower and finish it quickly, fearing a cold due to the icy water. I walk over to my workplace, slowly. I take in all the sights and smells. I watch the people hurry by, not stopping for a moment. Nothing happens during work and I head to the beach again, while the office heads over to the bar to grab a drink.
I watch the sun setting in all its glory. I watch the couples holding hands and roaming the beach. I Hope they understand what good fortune it is that they have each other. I walk past a home decoration shop and find a beautiful mirror. A mirror without cracks. I look at it and think about the cracked mirror back home. OF course, I cannot comb my hair properly, but it’s a small price to pay for such insight.
I head home, eat and sleep. There wasn’t much to do and I slept heavily.
I wake up the next day. I feel irritated and annoyed. I have a slight headache and last night’s sleep was less than perfect. I don’t have an appetite for breakfast and head straight to work. I don’t wish anyone, but no one seems to mind. I do my work, inefficient and sloppy. My co-workers all leave again, heading off to watch a movie. I head home and crash into the bed.
My head ache doesn’t leave and it haunts my sleep.
I wake up next day, groggy and tired. I skip breakfast again and head straight to work. Time passes excruciatingly slow. I look at my window and see the cracks on its wall. I find it annoying that I do not have a proper window and call in for repairs. I head to a club after work. I needed to loosen up. It was not half an hour later that I find my coworkers.
I don’t think they saw me and I head over to greet them while they were having some sort of a celebration. I say hello and they greet me back. They say a few words and move on with their party. I stand there for a few minutes, after which I head to the bar to have a small drink.
I order a Scotch, neat and on the rocks. I look at the swirling liquid and wondered what it was I was doing. I downed the glass and headed home. I did not sleep. My headache worsened.
I spend the night sleepless. I call in sick the next day. I stay home, lying on the bed. I feel something in my heart, as if a rock has been placed on my chest. I stare emptily at the ceiling. I look at the crack in my window and my hands tremble. It all seemed so unfamiliar and I itched for a comforting distraction.
I head out to drink again.
I wake up with a hangover. Yet, I head over to my workplace. I greet them and it’s the same response as ever. They greet me and go back to what they were doing. One of my coworkers arrive late. He seems sick and they are concerned about him. They send him home. My coworkers leave, one by one and I work late night. I head home, but I can’t bear my trembling hands and heavy soul. I head over to the club again and drink 3 glasses. There was nothing I could do and I felt like I lost all control over my life.
I head to the back, where a familiar face greets me with a smile. Those beautiful green eyes ask me if I want the usual. She hands me couple of pills and some crystals. I have a look at her again while leaving. She looks back at me again and I felt the world crashing down at my feet.
I pop a couple of pills and walk home. I remember falling down. Will nobody help me? I want help. I want something. I reach home. I reach for my syringe and plunge that sweet liquid down my veins. No help was coming. I had nobody. But I felt great while feeling so sad. I hated myself and loved it all. I enjoyed every moment of it. I pass out, on the floor.
The man enters the room. He knows the drill. He opens the unlocked door and sees a man passed out on the floor. He checks his vital signs and finds him alive. He shifts the man to his bed and his carpet is wet with tears. He looks at his broken window and wastes no time in fixing it. Replacing it with a new and smooth pane of glass. He leaves the bill and hopes this would be the last time he has to come here, knowing fully well that it would not be so.
I wake up in despair and anger. I wake up confused and dazed. I look at myself in the mirror and see a man that did no resemble me. I hate him, but he is the only thing that keeps me alive. I look outside and see the bright sunlight and the colorful world. Why can’t anybody save me? Overcome with rage, I punch the window, cracking it. I fall back into the bed again, with tears in my eyes. I will become better. I will start a new life. I decide to stop hurting myself and improve. I had to save myself.
Tomorrow, I will be born again.
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