The Story of Hurt

Mommy told you not to take candy from strangers. And then Mommy told you not to take hurt from strangers. No one told you what to do if you took hurt from the known. They didn’t make meds for it and even if they did, Mommy told you not to take pills for everything.

You would be 16, young in body and a child at heart, when the first dealer of hearts fools you into buying the first of many Hurts. This Hurt will go after your sanity, break it down and remodel it into it’s own version. And believe me dearest, Hurt is not a lover of beauty. The new face of your sanity will be that of a minion; it will spread more of it’s insidious spawns, infecting everyone it lays it’s eyes on. Healthier people will tell you to keep poisoning Hurt with patience and it will die away, it’s just a matter of time. Sure as hell, the Hurt does die without a trace.

Years will pass by without much event and you would have told people the tale of the time you hunted Hurt away, so, so many times. Then one day you would tell your story of Hurt to this person you have fallen in love with. He will tell you after, that you have nothing to fear from him because he has no hurt to give. You will believe him. And maybe, just maybe he will not. But who’s to know if you can cause him Hurt or who’s to know if he has Hurt right up his sleeve without the knowledge of it.

The story runs ahead and you are suffering from Hurt again. This time around, it has come to haunt you harder and it’s not planning to leave anytime soon. Don’t you worry though, this time you are armed too. You learned to conceal the Hurt-infested sanity with dabs of distraction and smudges of fake smiles. And you bare the wounds Hurt gave you, only once you are alone or sometimes when you are flushed with alcohol. The caution that age taught you, keeps you from driving away your *friends* when they see the ugly face of your dilapidated sanity. It might take you months and years to displace Hurt but when it’s over, the seat where the Hurt sat once, is consumed and hardy. You will know for sure that Hurt is never coming back to live in that part of your sanity.

By the time this appearance of Hurt becomes history, you will have had many more of them and then they will become but wrinkles in your mind. They will benignly stay there, reminding you in your final years of the times you became stronger. While your vision fades and actions wisen, you will tell your children what your Mommy hadn’t. You will tell them,my dears, take all the Hurt that comes by your way, because as honest a teacher, you will never ever find.


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