The Trip Up
The street in front of our apartment is always busy. It's one of the bigger streets in our neighborhood - easy access to cabs, the mini-markets and a couple restaurants, a cafe, a pizzeria, and until recently, a guitar shop. So there's always people there.
Some days ago, three of those people - regulars, men who work in the area - had a nice laugh.
At my expense.
I'd just come out of the building, ready to meet a client, sunglasses in place. I'd felt like a million dollars right then - getting hired by people to write, something I love to do, a bustling social life, nursing several crushes and daydreaming the entire week - I was invincible! Who DIDN'T love me? Everyone loves me! I'm confident, I'm loving my life, I'm healthy, I'm funny. Like, wow.
I walk down the steps with these thoughts swirling in my head, the great possibilities ahead of me, the fun I would be having with my friends. I was a little bit intoxicated, maybe even delusional, with the idea of an entire life and an entire world at my disposal. My eyes scanned the street for the driver who was picking me up, and they sweep over the three men I noticed were ogling the lone woman out during daytime - me. Oh, pssh, I says to myself. Like they stood a chance with me. ME. Me!!
Two steps down and I step over the front of my abaya and tumble all the way down to the, what, 15th step? Within seconds, I was down on the floor, on the street, my bag had fallen off my arm and its guts spilled all over the gravel, my feet at a funny angle underneath me. I was completely seated on the street by this time, my entire abaya covered in dust and road-fluff, my sunglasses and scarf askew.
I heard a guffaw coming from the direction of the three men. And then full-blown laughter. My face started getting hotter and hotter, and I try to pick up after myself, almost completely oblivious to a throbbing pain in my ankle and a scrape down my left leg.
My poor ego. It lays there on the street right now, I'd left it there.
Every day, as I leave the apartment, I see my ego lying on that street, and I tell myself that it is best to walk over and around it, to leave it there, to not pick it back up and put it back on.
Some days ago, three of those people - regulars, men who work in the area - had a nice laugh.
At my expense.
I'd just come out of the building, ready to meet a client, sunglasses in place. I'd felt like a million dollars right then - getting hired by people to write, something I love to do, a bustling social life, nursing several crushes and daydreaming the entire week - I was invincible! Who DIDN'T love me? Everyone loves me! I'm confident, I'm loving my life, I'm healthy, I'm funny. Like, wow.
I walk down the steps with these thoughts swirling in my head, the great possibilities ahead of me, the fun I would be having with my friends. I was a little bit intoxicated, maybe even delusional, with the idea of an entire life and an entire world at my disposal. My eyes scanned the street for the driver who was picking me up, and they sweep over the three men I noticed were ogling the lone woman out during daytime - me. Oh, pssh, I says to myself. Like they stood a chance with me. ME. Me!!
Two steps down and I step over the front of my abaya and tumble all the way down to the, what, 15th step? Within seconds, I was down on the floor, on the street, my bag had fallen off my arm and its guts spilled all over the gravel, my feet at a funny angle underneath me. I was completely seated on the street by this time, my entire abaya covered in dust and road-fluff, my sunglasses and scarf askew.
I heard a guffaw coming from the direction of the three men. And then full-blown laughter. My face started getting hotter and hotter, and I try to pick up after myself, almost completely oblivious to a throbbing pain in my ankle and a scrape down my left leg.
My poor ego. It lays there on the street right now, I'd left it there.
Every day, as I leave the apartment, I see my ego lying on that street, and I tell myself that it is best to walk over and around it, to leave it there, to not pick it back up and put it back on.
Yowzers! I'm glad you turned out okay, and that nothing was damaged or broken.
ReplyDeleteI dislike it when people laugh at others' misfortunes. One day, just they laughed when you fell, they too will fall. So says, JACK THE TRIPPER!
*folds cape around self and hops off into the shadows*
Oh it happens to us all! I was lucky enough to trip on my abaya and fall down 3 steps and quickly jump up with a quick glance around with relief that no one had seen me!
ReplyDeleteBTW, you're allowed to dream sometimes ... if you didn't how would you become ambitious?
OMG Aray!Ambition hurts but its the good kind of hurt when you've reached your pinnacle.Love you yaya!
ReplyDelete