My glasses are still holding strong from that time you fixed them. I’ve had the same cheap pair of Medicaid frames since March, 2017. These things have always been a reminder of strange feelings. They are a symbol of declivity and compromise in my life. The glasses I had before these had $200 lenses. My aunt who’s worked in optometry hooked me up and they had all the dope features: transition, anti-glare, and w/e the fuck else. My current ones are certainly a downgrade. I don’t even think they look quite right on my face, but hey,they were the only option. Still, I’m constantly annoyed that I have to settle on these stupid things. Sometime late last year, during a time of major personal transformations, I had awoke in my bed and rolled over on them. The right hinge broke off. I remember this being very frustrating to me. I can’t quite recall if I was just worn out from partying or if there were things that weren’t going my way the previous day. I mean, it was probably both – this was an intense time for me, and I didn’t need that shit. Ever since then I’d need to repair them more and more often, always with super glue and always a pain in the ass. It got to the point to that they just refused to hold for very long because I was doing quick fixes with fresh adhesive onto old, flaky glue that was awkwardly globbed on.
	I think about the Saturday night we went to that concert. How before we left, I was having bad nerve issues and I needed to fix them so I pulled the glue apart and ended up making a mess. They came apart again during my bad panic attack at the show, an episode that you helped me through so damn well; I’m grateful for you and the way you did that. Anyway, the rest of the night I annoyingly struggled with trying to see. I was drunk, mentally fragile, and I had broken glasses. When we got home to your room you offered to fix them, but I was embarrassed and you had already done so much for me that night. The next day, before I left, I asked with an abashed voice if you would please fix them. It took you like two seconds. I don’t know what you did but they still feel sturdy and show no signs of coming apart. It’s interesting to me: because of the skill you had demonstrated mending these things I had dealt with, such as my lack of feeling, my ptsd episode, my fucking glasses, I’m still putting up with this weirdly symbolic item. We don’t talk anymore, which sucks, but each morning I wake up and put my glasses on my face I’m reminded of the ways that you impacted me.