You don’t put sadness in a glass jar.
Especially if the glass jar is your heart.
It’s fragile and it’s vital.
But when you’ve got nowhere to hide all the sadness that you feel, you can’t help but keep it there. It’s just there on your chest, conveniently waiting for you to exhaust it.
Days would pass and you would fill your jar with sadness. Sometimes, full up to the brim. And then your glass jar would slowly crack up. Breaking at a slow pace; because the sadness you kept inside it is boiling.
And as it continue to boil, you feel your jar shattering. Wounding you from within. Scaring your insides, scars invisible to the naked eye but are as deep as your worst fears.
And finally as sadness is replaced by pain, when all you can do is squirm at your own agony, you give in to your tears. Tears you held so long, trying to be strong. Just then realizing that it did you no good. So you cry your heart out, wipe your tears when you get tired and start to move on.
And by then you’ve learned that bottling your sadness is a crime.