A short story about a bully
I see you. I hear you. I know you….I just don’t need you – and you don’t like that.
I can feel it. I can sense it. I know it….I just don’t care – and you can’t deal with that can you.
You are nothing more than a bully. Insecure. Selfish. Mean. Your meaness is something so ugly that nothing nice you do can make up for it.
You can fool people for so long, but you never did fool me.
One by one, slowly but surely – people start to see your true colours.
Whereas so many of us glisten like rainbows, or radiate like birds feathers, you are like a cold foggy afternoon – hanging around, unwanted….a let down.
This is your fault. You don’t have to be this way. For some reason you are threatened by ‘nice’, ‘kind’, ‘lovely’ – probably something you’ve always wished to be. Because you aren’t it – or you feel you aren’t it (more to the point) you despise anyone that is.
You dig your claws in for no reason, other than you wish you were it….but you could be, if you had just been bothered to stop and try.
Instead you slowly sour. Your colour drained. Like a beautiful snow fall that turns to dirty polluted slush.
You could change, people give second chances, whether they are deserved or not, but alas I don’t feel you will change….and that my friend, is what makes you fail.
No one is perfect but it’s what we do about things that makes us a failure or not, but doing nothing or letting the darkness creep into your very core is where you fail.
I let you get to me. Others have let you get to them. Even your closest widen their eyes at things that leave your mouth.
It’s not kindergarten anymore. It’s not a role play, it’s not a trial run – this is it – this is your life – do you really want this to be your legacy?