Glass Floor

Sometimes I feel like I’m watching my life unfold through a glass floor beneath me.  Below I can catch glimpses of what I might like my life to be like, but I can’t get there.  I search for doors and windows and ways to get around to the life below, but all I realize is that the only way for me to get there is to go through the glass, and that it’s going to be terribly painful.  I also know it means that I am avoiding all feelings because I don’t want to endure the bad ones right now. 

But I know that at some point I’m going to have to feel the pain to get to the good.  But will the good be there, and will it be enough to make the pain of breaking through worthwhile?  That is the fear.  The fear of the unknown because the pain is easier than the possibility of the unknown, of taking that chance yet again.  The pain is more familiar, and in some ways even a little comforting.  Better the devil you know?  So for now I will put off the destruction of the glass floor and be content to watch the life happening, the potential for happiness slipping by, an interested observer, but a participant who is not yet ready to try again.