Its strange that most people dont care if things break. Youd think it would be the opposite, but if its really small and fragile, most people wont even think that its gone. Things like pencils and chalk. Pencils are harder, because theyre louder. You cant do it with pens at all. They bleed when they break. Theres ink on your hands and the desk and everyone can see it.
Im not the type who just goes around breaking windows. I usually break chalk. I take a nice long piece and snap it in half. Then I snap those halves in half. And so on. And then when the pieces are small enough, you can crush them with your hands and theyll be nothing but dust. And nobody notices dust at all. Just take in a nice, long breath, and itll scatter all over the place and no one will see it again. And if you do it right, its quiet as anything. Ive broken chalk right in the middle of the classroom, and nobody even bothers to turn around.
But not windows. Windows are fragile, but theyre not meant to be broken. If they break, everyone knows someone did it. And I broke it with my hands of all things! So there I was, alone in a room, with my hand all cut up and filled with glass, as everyone just suddenly filed into the room. I admit it was rude of me to break a window, but I dont think it was that big a deal. The instant they came in, I insisted Id pay for a new window, which I did. It astounds me how much people overreact to these sorts of things.
What a pain. People look at me all the time now. I figured I deserved it, but its still really embarrassing to get all this attention. People thing Im crazy for some reason. Its not like I hurt anybody. It was just an accident. We all do things without thinking once in awhile, correct? I miss when all I ever saw of them was the back of their heads. It's burdensome to look into someone's eyes. Especially more than one set. But if the feel the need to look at me for no good reason, I suppose its their business.
What really bothers me it the counselor. She never says it out loud, but she wants to know why I broke the window. I have a feeling that a lot of people want to ask me that too. They just hover around with wide eyes, waiting for me to ask them, Do you want to know why they broke the window? The counselor does that too. I suppose they think theyre being polite, but I honestly find them rather rude. Its like walking up to people with a sad look on your face, waiting for them to ask you to be a member of their group. Its sad and weak. Im sure that one day, the counselor is going to ask me why I broke the window. Ill wait until they ask, and then Ill tell them. It really isnt that special though.
You see, whenever I break things, I tell myself a story. Somewhere far away, theres a town where people disappear. Its not the same as dying, because when you die, you leave a body, and doctors can find out exactly how and when you died. But nobody knows what happens when you disappear. You can just walk out a room just to stretch your legs and disappear. You can just go rest your eyes for a moment and youll disappear. Nobody knows why or where people go. There isnt some place where all the bodies go. Theres no warning. They just go away.
But theres a way to stop people disappearing. If youre in a group of people, people will let you eat their arms. People have arms like those dolls that have arms that pop out if you twist them hard enough. So people will just tear out an arm and feed it to a friend. And that friend will tear out an arm and feed it to another friend. And so on. And if you eat an arm off of someone every day, you wont disappear. The next day, your arm would grow back, and it would start all over again. But when it grows back, its a little smaller and weaker than before, so theres less for people to eat. Most people die or disappear before theyre thirty in that place.
Theres this little boy that wanders around, and hes in front of this group of people eating each others arms. Hed walk up to them and say, I dont want to disappear. May I please eat someones arm too? Theyd just look at him and say Sorry, but theres just no room for you here. Then theyd continue to eat the arms. The boy would watch them for awhile, not sure what to do. Then he would bend over and just start eating his knees. Then his calves would fall off, and hed eat them, all the way to his feet. He wouldnt stop. He ate his thighs, all the way to his pelvis. Then hes just keep eating up his spine, to his ribs, and then slowly devour both his arms. Then there wouldnt be anything left but his shoulders, neck, and head, and hed watch the rest of the people eating their arms.
The story went a little differently that day. Instead, when he said, I dont want to disappear. May I please eat someones arm too? someone in the group said, Of course you can, and offered him their arm. He didnt eat it all at once like the others, who eagerly devoured away. He nibbled a little bit at the finger tips, and then he looked up. Thank you, he said to the person, but I really dont like the taste of arms. Its much bitterer than I thought it would be. Then he turned and walked away. Nobody knew whether or not he disappeared. He never returned to ask to eat the arms ever again.
This didnt make me angry. I didnt fly into a rage. I dont know how to describe it. For some reason I turned around, and the window was gone. I know I smashed my hand through it, but it wasnt something I really consciously remember, like the last time I blinked. I felt so embarrassed when everyone came in. There was a little bit of bone sticking out of my hand. I hope nobody noticed it. They probably did though, because I stared at it, fascinated. You know all your life that you have a skeleton inside you, yet it shocks you when you actually see it. I just marveled at it, told everyone that Id pay for a new window, and wonder what happened to the boy.
I was actually worried that someone would ask me why I broke the window before I knew what happened to the boy. It bothered me for the first week a lot, as people hovered around with their wide eyes. Then one day, I figured it out. The boy just went home, walked all the way to his room at the end of the hall, and went straight to bed. All he really did was fall asleep. Granted, this sleep was so deep that he might as well have been dead, and he didnt move and at times looked like he didnt even breathe. But he wasnt dead, and he didnt disappear, and he didnt need to go find someone somewhere else. After awhile, people came to see what happened to him, but after awhile, they left him alone. It was a wonderful ending.
I feel much better now. Now that I know the full story, Im sure I wont do anything silly like break glass. Very soon, I can just go back to breaking chalk and no one will notice again. People will stop looking at me. Everything will be the same again very soon. Im also happy that if anyone asks, Ill be able to tell them the full story. Thank goodness I figured it out. Nobody likes a story that doesnt have an ending.