Another broken helmet

My theory on the glass helmet:

I believe that our heads are covered by a glass, fishbowl-like helmet, extending about three inches beyond our skulls in every direction. ordinarily, that helmet protects our skulls as we run the daily risks of life, maneuvering our way into cars, bending down to pick things up. that's why we don't bang our heads on everything: the glass helmet protects us.

occasionally, however, we whack it too hard and it breaks, and after that we start cracking our skulls against all manner of things.

i broke mine again. !Ay!

climbing up while looking down, the solid "thwack" of bone on wood, the immediate flush of anger that always accompanies pain.

i'll have to be extra careful until the glass helmet grows back.

All together now: "poor baby!"