Unlearned Lesson

I held a jewel in my fingers
And went to sleep.
The day was warm, and winds were prosy;
I said: “’T'will keep.”

I woke and chid my honest fingers,
The gem was gone;
And now an amethyst remembrance
Is all I own.

Emily Dickinson

You’d think that after all these years, after all the things you have gone through, you’d be used to the casual betrayals, the seemingly unintended hurts, the neglect, the apathy, the little jibes that were meant to be jokes but stabs you something fierce and potent. But no, each jab, each betrayal are death wounds that leave you depleted, hollow. You were foolish to think that maybe it will be different this time. You were hopelessly naïve into hoping because you were nice, because you were kind, because you wanted to be gracious, that you will be spared.

But here you are, embarrassed, a bit unsure, humiliated actually. And you hate yourself for it, because you should have known better. What made you think nothing hurtful will happen. You think you have set yourself for a fall, and now that it has happened, you have no one to blame but yourself.

Now you feel tender, vulnerable – like a clam without a shell, and the slightest pinch of salt shall be the ruin of you, where even the supplest elements of nature poke, prod and hurt you. You know that this too will pass – that this will not be the end of you. You know that, but in the meantime, you feel worse than death. There is now no retreat back into the shell, for in a burst of optimism and hope you shattered it. And now where do you hide?

Shall you then vow to always keep your shield up? Shall you now keep everyone at bay because once more the world has proven unkind, cruel, merciless? Shall you build for yourself a fortification of sarcasm, and cynicism and biting humor? You should, but you won’t.