Volume 44 ~ 2022

Jerzie Vap





I don’t remember when it began, in fact I find it challenging to recall the most basic things about my life. Perhaps being alone for who knows how long, does that to someone. When I attempt to reminisce on my life, my mind is blank, more so than usual. 

I don’t sustain knowledge of how to interact with others. Humanity has become as much of a mystery as all other things I know. I do know I am human and I presume you are too because after all, only our species knows English, as far as we know. My name is Brindle and I believe I’m in my early teenage years. I’m unaware of other things about myself, other than my awareness of being unaware. It seems as if I’ve forgotten most, but uncover more on a daily basis. 

I’ve been in a dark solitude for as long as I can remember. I don’t know when the last time I saw a human was, but I know I must’ve seen one at some point, considering I came from one. I’ve come to a realization that the more I am alone, the more I forget, so I need to change that. After going through countless options, I’ve decided to just explore and fill my mind with the world around me. It's not that simple though. There’s a lot of preparation to do. 

I begin by finding vines in the deep green abyss I seem to be in. Taking note of my surroundings, I see what I believe to be sprouts, pink in color with yellow innards. The sprouts are scattered between raindrop shaped leaves. I cautiously walk closer, running my hand gently against the leaves, curious on how my hand may react. I glance at my hand to reassure myself that my interest isn’t going to get me into trouble, then I continue running my hands through the smooth, soft leaves. Pulling myself away from my distraction, I move back to finding vines. I try to find the strongest and healthiest vines, picking them off of the ground and some off of the trees they grow on. 

After gathering as many healthy vines I could find, I went back to the compact cave I have made my home. My dwelling has a blanket-like weaving which I use to keep warm at night. The deep green forest I live in has a warm climate but cools at night so my weaved blanket keeps me from shivering. I don’t have anything else in my home, other than a pile of berries I picked from a bush and let sit in the sun to make dried berries. With my vines, I planned to make a weaved bag to carry my belongings and anything I find during my exploration. Getting right to work, I began weaving the vines into a lattice pattern, letting it gradually get longer and longer. Once I had a large sheet-like piece of weaving, I folded it in half and put small but heavy rocks on the crease to keep it from unfolding. I decided to leave the rocks on the crease of my bag overnight in order to ensure that it would hold its shape. 

The next morning I ate the remainder of my berries, knowing they would go bad soon, making a mental note to gather sustenance later. Shortly after eating my breakfast, I grabbed my woven bag and added two double layered straps for sturdiness. 





I awoke to her worry-filled expression,

Seeing her swollen and reddened eyes dropping tears

Leaving behind damp drop marks on her pale purple shirt.


She looked into my expressionless face, 

I felt nothing, my world had gone empty,

My mind had gone dark.


Her sunken and exhausted eyes still had their usual sparkle,

reminding me that she wouldn’t leave my side,

but making me regret what I did. 


I awoke to the only person who has ever loved me,

The one who has seen the best and worst of me,

My person, the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.


As I came further into reality she pulled my warmth closer to her,

giving me comfort in that grim hospital bed,

This moment solidified that she was the one I would be with forever.


The glass is shattered.

It is not half empty, nor is it half full.


The glass is shattered, broken, and in a state of battery, 

like many things in the world.


Little girls when their mother calls them fat,

Boys told they’ll never successfully bat,


Children who endure shootings,

Protestors driven to participate in lootings,


Individuals who never felt worthy,

Those ashamed of being curvy,


Everyone suffering in silence,

And victims of domestic violence.


Shattered glasses are evidence of our humanity,

And humanity is shattered glasses.