Presenting Story #2 from the ‘Short Shot’ series. It’s been inspired by a number of songs and incidents, but I felt ‘Hurt’ by Johnny Cash best describes the essence of this short. Well have fun reading, and let me know what you think!

Begin Transmission

It’s a common misconception you know…The good old green monster isn’t Oscar the grouch, but, good old bittersweet envy…it’s almost akin to Poison Ivy, well if you were to give it a hue of green. Here’s another fact about envy, it isn’t something just associated with the rich and famous; it’s the ghost that haunts us all. The shadow-less entity that’s poised to strike at any time, that sits in that exclusively reclusive section of our minds. It’s the fatal blow that maims all of us, regardless of how ordinary or extraordinary we might be. It’s the one virtue, the one sin that is either responsible for our ascent to the top, or our rapid descent to rock bottom.

As children, we never saw our days speeding by us. They progressed from one moment to another, and each moment was met with an excitement and anticipation to move on towards the next moment. We never really pause to think of our actions, all we want to do then, at that age is, to learn, live, leap and fly off towards the path of happiness and dreams. Nothing seems impossible, and if it does, we either set our hearts on overcoming them or we shrug it off and find something else to catch our attention and captivate our imaginations. The innocence and purity of our intentions and thoughts guide us to what we see and perceive…and then adulthood sets in.

We all wanted to grow up so terribly fast, that once we got there, we wanted the clock to slow down. Suddenly we weren’t as impatient for time to fly by…suddenly perspective started keeping pace with our actions, and, reflections and regrets started rearing their heads at reality. We begin to question motives, people and intent; and somehow, rationality and logic find their way into our dictionaries and categorically qualify and eliminate what we should consider as logical ambitions and foolhardy if not idealistic dreams. For every new lesson learned, we lose just a little bit more of ourselves.

Then there are those instances when life forces it’s hand and makes you stop, despite your urgency to get to your ultimate destination. Everybody remembers reveling in the sight of you falling, some with utter satisfaction, and others with a hidden satisfaction; somehow very few share your sense of utter dejection. Everybody also remembers your meteoric rise back against the odds; that’s when they conveniently remember you exist, and scream words of approval and encouragement of how they always knew you could do it. Some with smiles as fake as knock off Pradas, others with grim smiles of disappointment and fear at what is to come with the slightest tinge of anger and jealousy bringing just a little more fire into their eyes. And yet others, with their fangs retracted and claws bared, unafraid to announce and display their open hostility. Unfortunately, nobody remembers the countless humiliations, the countless sights and sighs of disappointment buzzing through the air and piercing the heart and soul like the sharpest slivers of glass. Nobody hears the silent tears; hidden and swept up by day and wept through soul shattering wracking sobs at night. Nobody knows how difficult it is to breathe, while being suffocated by your world crumbling upon itself, and, imploding in on itself. End of the day, it’s always easier to trample those being trampled beneath countless feet, and it’s always much easier to stand on the side of the victors in the hopes of being remembered for you support then, and not during the greatest time of need.

Oh envy, how you color the world, with your desire to thrive and your lust to live. If only you could be seen for the temptress you are, for the hidden entity doing her unforgiving bidding of cracking and battering the mold of a heart and soul, once innocent, once blessed, once pure. Here us mortals remain, your greatest triumph, your greatest victory, your greatest creation, exposed, uninhibited and unhidden.

End Transmission


2 thoughts on “‘Hurt’

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