Pains of Glass (Álanna Hammel)

Have you ever fallen in love with someone through pains of glass?  I have.  When I hear the word beauty I think of cosmetics.  Women with tweezed eyebrows and skinny necks staring into the back of a camera.  I wonder how the camera man feels.  Is he nervous?  Does it benefit his self-confidence?  

They must lead him to believe something; they may be through the lens of a camera but they’re still stares.  As much as a stare as an estranged neighbour from across the dinner table.  As much as a stare as I would stare at him through pains of glass, were they not there to be looked through surely?  My estranged neighbour across the dinner table made me overly conscious of my every move. 



Was it my hair?  Was it my makeup?  Did I have something between my teeth?  I was uncomfortable.  Staring was rude, I was always told that.

Although the last thing in the world I wanted was for him to be uncomfortable.  His hair was perfect, makeup if any was flawless and there was nothing between his teeth.  I didn’t mean to be rude, I didn’t mean to make him conscious of his every move, but alas I’m sure I did.  

I had never stared at anyone.  It is rude, but I couldn’t help tracing my eyes like a labyrinth puzzle to his expanse.  For me he was the elephant in the room, but I was the only person aware of this fact.  If others knew of his significance or his consequence I’d look away.  I never did. 

There are many eye-catching commodities in this world, yet few of them are regularly watched.  The sun is the goddess of light.  She radiates all that is striking; hot, bright, mystical, strong and genial.  Although we never stare straight into the sun.  We never eyeball this goddess of light through pains of glass making her feel nervous or confident or even both.  The only time we stare at the sun is when she’s descending.  We admire her beauty from afar.  We analyse each and every characteristic of her being.  Even as she comes closer, we are not afraid to have our eyes sting or our vision blackened for ten seconds.  We still watch her. 

In this equation he is my sun.  I cannot stare at him in open spaces where one could find it blatant whilst apprehending my train of vision.  No, I only stare when he is concealed and camouflaged.  However sometimes he comes away from hiding, and at these times I still watch.  As he comes closer I am not afraid to be embarrassed being caught looking or make eye contact for ten seconds. As I know he cannot come any closer I watch him as he turns away.  I wonder what it will be like when my sun never rises again.


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