Broken...

The mirror was well and truly broken. Even if it had been a vase, or a platter, or something that was normally mendable it wouldn't have been. There were just too many pieces. And you couldn't mend a mirror when it broke. Even if you had all of the pieces the edges where they lined up wouldn't work the same. The light would reflect differently. The image it reflected wouldn't be true anymore. Each broken piece would reflect back the image in a slightly different place. You'd look like your own cubist portrait.

She had seen a meme once that said that a disco ball was just a broken mirror glued together to cast rainbows. It was supposed to be one of those uplifting things. Like no matter how broken you are you can still be beautiful. 

Which sure...if you took all of the broken pieces of this mirror and found a ball to glue them all to, and could do it without slicing your hands up completely and bleeding out all over the craft table she guessed it might reflect rainbows? 

But probably not. 

It would probably look like a mess of broken glass that was never intended to be put together like that with zero rainbows involved.

It was well and truly broken. 

Sometimes things just were. 

She didn't believe that everything happened for a reason. Unless the reason could be sometimes shit happens, that's the reason. She didn't believe that every path was a good one. Sometimes you walked all the way down the road only to find out it was one of those emergency brake failure lanes for the big rigs on a mountain and you were just about to be plowed down by an out of control semi truck so why the fuck are you walking on this road? 

She was not one of those people who let herself off the hook. 

If the mirror is broken, it's broken. Sweep up the pieces and move along. Knowing full well that in a few months one of the shards that you missed is going to cut up the bottom of your foot something fierce and possible cause an infection that leads to gangrene and you might lose your entire fucking leg. 

She really wasn't a pessimist. 

Just had a lot of life experience to back her up.

Sometimes things just didn't work out. Or they went to shit. Or they completely fell apart. Or the mirror broke. 

She went to get a few garbage bags to load up the glass. She would double bag it. Maybe more. How many layers to make sure the glass didn't hurt someone else? 

Why didn't everyone do that? Make sure that their mess didn't hurt others. 

Wouldn't that make the world better. 

If instead of trying to be a goddamn disco ball people just said, Hey! I'm broken! I'm trying, but I might lash out sometimes and say or do things that aren't great. But I'm trying, REALLY FUCKING TRYING not to hurt others. 

But no, they made excuses. If you can't handle me at my worst you don't deserve to be a fucking disco dancer or whatever shit they tried to pull out. 

She swept up the glass. Put it in the bag. Got out the vacuum and ran it over the floor as well. Then further out. You never knew how far the damaged pieces would fly. What a bitch of a surprise that would be. To be in a totally different room and get cut by a piece. But it happened. When things well and truly broke they tended to spread out farther than you could ever imagine. 

The mirror was broken and she was left to deal with the mess.