Behind the glass, everything looks different.
When I look outside, I see
people smiling,
children running around
the luminous green—almost phosphorescent—
of trees caught between
the end of spring and the beginning of summer.

But on my side of the glass,
things don’t look as vibrant
or as warm.
All I see are
shades of gray around me.

Time moves forward,
though sometimes I feel it freeze,
leaving me suspended
in a kind of monotonous eternity.

Seconds, minutes, hours,
and days lose their meaning
when nothing in them stands out
or breaks through the fog.
The music sounds the same,
movies blur together,
and everything holds
the same dull flavor.

Sometimes, though,
I catch a glimpse of light
through the cracks in the glass—
a light others seem to live within.

But I don’t know how to cross
to the other side.

I feel trapped
in my own reality,
while others move through a world
I can’t quite reach.

And even if only a few meters
separate us,
for me,
they are universes apart.

I long for a past
that now feels more like
a fantasy built from nostalgia
than a life I truly lived.

Who is the person
I’m trying to find inside myself?
If I can’t be who I once was,
and have no certainty of who I’ll become…

How hard is it
to break the glass?

•

How much of eternity
do I still have to endure
before I get out of here?

I don’t know.
But I’ll try—at least—
to enjoy the light
that slips through the cracks.