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Don't ask me what i think...don't ask me what I feel. No matter what emotions, i hide behind a veil. Not of silk, or cotton, or of any cloth. I hid behind a mask, so I feel nothing at all.

I am a clown. See me dance and sing. Come on, you know...you made me this very thing. I'm funny, yes? You know that to be true, so come dance with me...come one come all.

I am a woman, not a man, lets get this straight at the beginning. I am a linguist. You know naught of what I say.

You see my eyes. They look like glass. You stare at them, they stare blankly right back.

In this shell I am not. I fled ages ago. Before my pride, my sanity fled. It was 'an age to die for', or at least that's what they said. Can you believe it? Can you? Of course you can...for you made the rules.

I dance in front of the court, you see, for pleasure to bring to a sort of humanity. It is quite unbearing...to not be loved. I gave my soul to my routines, to be loved...to see you smile.. My own guilty pleasures..My pride. I hide it away like a sin. I covet my place at your feet my lord. To be loved, held. You call my name. I rush to please. Its a wonderful existience.

The rain fell hard onto the window searching for a way to get in. I sat in a chair and was downing whiskey by the glass. Nothing left, but the glass. I am truely alone now.

The lightning strikes and I smash the glass against my desk and watch the blood trickle down from my hand. No more tears to shed.

When you left me, you left me everything, yet you left me alone. The lightning lights up the room and shadows the dark room. Brother, why? Why, why why?! Father left you the business, and mother left you me. We'd always be together.

The alcohol burns the cuts in my hand and I look at the mess. The blood still pours on the desk. I place my bloody palm against the window, feeling its coolness caused by the cold rain. The droplets of rain water race the blood dripping from the cut in my hand, down the glass. I lift my head and put it to the window, looking out into the darkness.

I feel a ting of pain and lonliness; something I haven't felt since he died.

Glass, shuch amazing beauty. The light can toss it around and yet it stays whole. I look down at the shattered glass and spilled whiskey on the floor. The glass is shattered, but still, you know that it is glass. When you left, i pondered this. If I sent you my heart, I have decided to have it made of glass. That way, if it ever gets broken again, it will still be able to be seen that it was once my heart.

Hmm....just think, that would be a good bussiness. Making glass hearts. No one would have to worry about feelings anymore. You could give them a glass heart to hide emotion.

Feeling pain through my hand, I am brought back to my senses.

Without thinking, I run my bloody hand across my face. The rain continues to beat against the window. In a fit of quick rage, I grab the wiskey bottle and throw in at the wall. THe lightning flashes and lights the room. I stand in front of a mirror mounted on the opposite wall. THe lightning flashes and illuminates the room long enough to see my maddened reflection. My face has two streaks of red.

Bloody tears...get this brother. We could make a fortune. With the glass hearts and the tears of blood there would be no need for real emotions, or even real tears. They would fly off the shelf. Wouldn't it be brilliant?? Why didn't I think of this before you died? Maybe you would still be with me.

The rain is continuing its onslaught of the outside world. The lightning keeps beating the ground, as if feeling my rage.

I walk out to join it.