One of my all-time favorite books called "The History of Love" by Nicole Krauss talks about the Age of Glass. "During the Age of Glass, everyone believed some part of him or her to be extremely fragile. For some it was a hand, for others a femur, yet others believed it was their noses that were made of glass."
For the past week, I've come to realized that my heart may have made of glass.
A glass that is sitting half way on the edge of a table, with a single motion, it will cause my heart to tip over and shatter in pieces.
I do not believe that it has anything to do with strength, just a lot to do with fear. Do you remember when you were little, and you got to drink from a "real glass" for the first time, instead of a cheap plastic cup? Holding that weighty glass, you feel like a real grown up, and for a second, you realize what comes with the territory. You could drop it and cut your toes. And you do NOT want to drop a glass on your toe, because it hurts like hell.
