Pride and Defeat

by Devina

I like to tell people I don’t do much. It’s easier to say that I am a lazy blob who does nothing than tell the truth and be embarrassed.

Call it pride, and my personal loss.

When in the end realization would hit me and tell me that, “Nobody cares anyway,” my little pride would still stand up and say, “But I do.”

There is glory in the easy streets. There’s a little bit of pride scathed when I watch people going around flashing easy lifestyle with little work. Effortlessly glide through life.

And don’t we all want that secretly? Live a Bruce Wayne life minus the Batman activities?

I have a habit of showing no work on the outside, and dying inside. The habit of looking fine on the surface while burning pages in the core. I like doing things anonymously, ignoring remarks and little signs of gratitude from people, and pretend as if nothing is hard work.

And in most places, it just brings me down.

My last relationship I was accused of doing very little, of not trying at all, and of being content with mediocracy. When I defended myself by revealing every single thing I did that was never appreciated because I let it slip, it felt silly.

He laughed and asked if I was joking. And a little part of me wanted to laugh with him.

It was my choice to put up the front of someone who didn’t care much or do much. And then it bit me back, right on the neck.

And the rest of me wanted to cry, blaming my pride for being too foolish, wishing for time to go back so that I could give myself some credit for trying harder than anyone ever thought I did.

“You never struggle. You have it all too easily,” some people would tell me, without ever knowing how little sleep I got and how exhausted I was.

But how could I ever tell them no? They would not believe me.

People see what they want to see.

Then perhaps those people whose lives flash around in golden cars and leisure activities feel the same. Maybe they are secretly burning flames like I am.

And maybe just like me, they are slaves to their pride.

And maybe just like me, they always suffer from personal loss untold.