This realization hits me. My eyes widen. My heartbeat thunders. My breaths become short and rushed.
As long as no one is here, I don’t feel like a small flower in a field where it’s almost invisible and far too easy trampled down. I don’t feel suffocated like all the people around me expend every trace of oxygen. I don’t feel their piercing stares and their whispers on my back, taunting me, harass me.
The morning will come back. The fake warmth of the people will follow. The loneliness will be gone. The safety will disappear with it.
Nothing is going to change it, to strengthen the glass I am made of. I will still be the vulnerable, tiny glass figurine which can be broken with less than a gentle breeze.