There is a madwoman dripped in blood, breaking dishes across the kitchen floor. Her heart slashed from the sharp pangs of lies devised by herself. She’s desperate for help, for someone to treat her wounds and put her insanity to sleep. So she runs towards the giant glass wall that looks over to the world. It has all the beautiful things she would like to be. A family having a dinner at a small restaurants, lovers kissings under the street lamps, grandma teaching her grandson to swim in the sea, a boy looking up to the stars beside his sister. A dad taking his daughter to the bowling Alley. Oh! The world is so beautiful. She’s hesitant at first, for they all so look so neat and gay. She’s afraid to shadow their smiles. She feels unworthy to be a part of such a beautiful world. But she’s wants one of those many things too. A hand that walks her over the bridge. A voice that puts her to sleep. A smile that absolves her sorrows just for that evening. So she bangs on that glass window with her bloody hands. She tries to break it with whatever strength she has left in her but she cannot. Many look at her and pass a pleasant smile as they walk by. While some stop in front of her, complimenting as to how beautiful she is or how they want her. They offer her their lust, their friendship, compassion some even go to the extent of calling it love. Yet they fail to see why she cannot take their hand. As though they cannot see the glass wall. The voices on the inside are continuously laughing. Saying you have no honor in you to expose your vulnerabilities so shamelessly. Begging for too much. Although she tries her best to ignore them and scream as loud as she can. Her faith starts diminishing. Her voice going fainter, making it difficult for even herself to hear it.
She walks over to the table and accidentally drops a glass of water on the floor. The glass shatters and there is silence in the room. She looks up and all her friends are looking at her.
She looks so vexed. Unsure of where she is.
Are you okay? You look so lost? Did you hurt yourself?
No, I’m Okay.
The waiter comes with a broom and a duster. With an apology to the waiter and a goofy smile to her friends, she goes on to be her pretentiousness sane self.
And just like that the mad woman is someone again, back to some world. Back to reality. Where movies interest people more than murders that one commits upon themselves behind that glass door.