Snow Globes


Thinking outside of the box isn’t as fun as it sounds – most of the time.

It makes you lonely.

On nights like these, a small part of me is tempted to trade my point of view for a ticket to join ‘snow globe society’… and the perfect, ignorant environment mankind built.
Snow Globes.
Perfect miniature worlds.

I remember exactly when mine got shattered.
All the liquid, the glittery little particles, the make-believe gushed out of the remains of my former home. I desperately tried to piece it back together, but it wouldn’t work.
The door got slammed in my face.
I was locked out of fairy land and couldn’t get back in.

Most of the time, I don’t mind.
Most of the time, I am happy and thankful to be able to look at the bigger picture…
But sometimes, I have to admit, I am a little bit jealous.
I do understand the saying “Ignorance is Bliss”… it does make a lot of sense when you’ve been excluded from ‘snow globe society’.
Everything was a lot easier inside the snow globe… and once in a while, a small part of me still envies the snow globe residents. It’s cozy in there; deep thoughts and worries are muted. Life is more relaxed.

But life on the inside is surreal, too.
On nights like these, I try not to think of what I lost.
I try to think of what I gained – all the knowledge, the understanding, the necessary lessons… and I hope, that fighting every step of the way will one day be rewarded.

Someone once said to me, “Don’t be lonely.”
I try not to be.
It takes a lot of work.

photo credits:


snowflakes drifted from the sky.
it was too early for such cold weather, yet it was there. snow. unmistakably.
his breath steaming in the cold night air, he drew his jacket closer, gathering what little warmth it would give him.
everything seemed so… quiet. muffled. his footsteps, crunching, crushing the white crystals on former dark gray pavement.

am i the only one here?

alien. so alien. in just a few hours, the world had transformed.
transformed into an uninhabitable environment… beautiful and deadly.
a butterfly, halfway covered by the drifting flakes, lay quivering on the sidewalk. he stared at the fragile body, transfixed, considered picking it up, but before being able to even finish his thought, the butterfly shuddered – one last time – and its wings lost color forever.
he resisted the urge to cringe and hurry away; instead made himself look a moment longer at the motionless form at his feet… once, so perfectly vivid; gorgeous.

all things must die. is that what this means? all things must die?

his gaze lifted to the wild and furious tumble above, and before his heart could adopt the cold that was spreading through his body, he hurried away, determined to find artificial warmth and comfort.
all he left behind were his footprints, slowly filling, fading from sight.