Broken Stones and Window Panes

There are always questions being thrown around.

How are you today? Are you having a good day?

Well, for one i’m not that great today which means that no I am not having a good day today..

After that initial statement I feel as though it should be a given that there is no way you can fix my day no matter how many times you ask.

So don’t ask me anymore if you can make my day better.

Because the only way you could make my day better is to fix the broken stones you threw at my unshattered window pane.

The window pane that you were trying to knock on but couldn’t reach.

So what was your only other option?

To throw stones and hope that they merely tapped upon my window instead of shattering it as you thought they might.

To throw the stones that you wish you had, to let go of the pebble in your hand.

To let go of all fear of rejection and thrust yourself into my sleeping arms and stay there for the rest of your life.

For the rest of your life that is until you get tired of me.

When you get tired of me not talking because the only words I can feebly mumble out of my mouth are i’m fine.

When in reality i’m not fine in fact I am the complete opposite of fine.

And I am perfectly okay with it.

The only time you actually mustered up the courage to throw a stone you wound up thankful that it didn’t actually tap my window.

You wound up thankful that instead of a light tap waking me up I completely ignored the thump on the wall beside my window.

What you don’t know is that that was a bad night and that the only reason I didn’t get up is because I didn’t want to wake up my drunkard of a father.

He was sleeping in the room next to mine.

I didn’t want the high pitched squeak of my bed frame to magically travel through the wall and wake him up.

I didn’t know if what hit the wall was actually him or if it was something outside.

I was silently hoping it was you though.

I was hoping that you would be my savior.

The thing is you never knew that from the day we met I was hoping that.

Now that you actually have the courage to think that out loud and act upon it we have fallen into dark times.

And by we I mean me and my father.

And by me and my father I mean me.

And by me I mean that I had fallen into a depression.

My father wasn’t actually a drunk, nor did I fear waking him because of it.

I feared waking him because I knew that he was already awake.

I feared waking him because I knew that if he heard any little movement from my room he would shoot up out of bed and come running to my room to ask me what was wrong.

I feared waking him because I didn’t want him to worry.

I feared waking him because I wanted him to get sleep.

I feared the thought of him knowing about my depression even though he already did.

He asked me what the noise was the next morning.

I told him I didn’t hear any noises last night.

Partly because I didn’t know but mostly because I didn’t want him to worry any more about me.

I wanted him to worry more about himself because he was starting to worry me.

So the next time you start to throw a stone at my window.

Aim better and break the glass house.

Don’t fear the thought of rejection.

Just throw the damn rock and yell “Hey don’t forget me. I love you.”

Because I will yell the same thing back.