Even though they’re imaginary, the bruises still hurt

Photo courtesy of Sander van der Wel via http://www.flickr.com/photos/40803964@N08/4649749639.

You told me where to stand, what to say and when to smile.
I did that.

You told me what the goal was, where the line in the sand was being drawn, and what the finish line was.
I surpassed it.

You wanted the red redder, the blues bluer and the golds to shine.
I made that happen.

And I did it while you were gone, concentrating on other things.

I expected a pat on the back. I expected a “job well done.”

Today I had to take a deep breath and tell others that the reds and blues were wrong. That we weren’t supposed to use gold. That the finish line they thought we had reached, in fact, was somewhere else.

Today I had to scramble and rush and make things up to justify tossing dirt on clean floors. And the words sounded false and stupid even to me. And I looked stupid to others.

I stood there and took the hit for doing what I was told in exactly the way I was told to do it.
I took the hit that should have been yours.

I think I might be done.

* * *

NOTES:

  • This was written a few months ago and post-published, for my sanity and to preserve the anonymity of those involved. But if this applied to you, you know who you are.
  • Photo courtesy of Sander van der Wel via http://www.flickr.com/photos/40803964@N08/4649749639.


About Paloma Cruz

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