Friday, November 11, 2011

Short Story: Words

She pelts me with words.

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Know-it-all.
She calls me know-it-all and she acts like she knows everything about me. Does she know who I really am? Does she know the innumerous thoughts that race through my mind at million miles per second? Does she know about the battles I’ve fought to reach where I’m now? Does she know how far I’ve climbed and I’m still set to go up higher?

Over-smart. Show-off.
Me, over-smart, show-off? Because I have a Hermione-esque habit of answering questions, though on a far smaller scale? Because I asked her a few questions she didn’t have answers to? Because I dared to step out of the lines she drew? Because I didn't want to conform to her stifling traditions? Because I ventured to express myself?

Pretentious, vain, conceited.
Had she thought of looking beyond her assumptions and prejudices? Had she just glanced at the tip of the iceberg and failed to see it ran deep into the seas? Had she peeled off the different layers before she spun her web of lies? Had she ever heard of the proverb, “Don’t judge a book by its cover”?
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I try to tune her out by singing “All you are is mean/and a liar/and pathetic/and a lowly life and mean, and mean, and mean….” in my head, but in vain. I could have borne it if she were hurling stones at me. Stones can only scar the surface – the skin broken, some blood shed. Or maybe some fractured bones.

But words wound far deeper. They pierce through my heart like a thousand knives. They course through me like venom, scorching my veins. They burn themselves on to my mind, smothering my confidence, my beliefs.

Her words also awaken my ugly side. They make me want lose control – to scream and yell at her to shut up, to quell that infuriating “I-know-everything” tone that adults often use. Or maybe just slap her, to wipe that smirk off her face. I want to fire all the questions that popped up in my head when she called me so-and-so, to see her fumbling for answers, to turn the tables.

But I keep quiet.

Because, even if words are silver, silence is golden.

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