the tiny bug

A bug was bothering me today. It irritated me endlessly. I tried to ignore it. Honestly I did, but it would not go away. Not matter how much I wanted it to leave me alone, it was still there.

I attempted to be the bigger person and merely accept its presence. That’s easier to say than to do. Nothing worked. It was still there, always annoying me. I tried to drown it out. I closed my eyes gently and took deep breaths.

In and out.

In and out.

Steady now.

I didn’t care about the damn bug anymore. It was an insignificant thing to me. Why should I be bothered by something so small? It was merely there. I should have just let it do what bugs do and be annoying.

It was doing its own annoying thing. The bug. It wasn’t intentionally trying to upset me. Hell, the bug probably had no concept of who I was in relation to it. It felt good to be bigger than that small bug. I felt like a powerful young woman. It was so small and I was so big. It was simply a bug.

Even if it wasn’t actively annoying me, just knowing it was there was an enormous distraction. I didn’t need that distraction in my life. I was trying to get some work things done. Maybe I was checking my email or texting my friends about our plans later that night.

We went drinking by the way.

It doesn’t matter what I was doing exactly because that bug was bothering me so much I couldn’t think of anything else. Just that bothersome bug.

Just that irritating, insignificant bug.

I’m bigger than it. It was small and powerless compared to me. I had more power than it. Because of that power, I did what any good tyrant would do and decided that irksome bug must die. It had disrupted my peaceful kingdom and the great hand of justice had to come down and unerringly smite this foe. It had too often invaded my personal space and it had to be executed for its trespasses.

It was small and insignificant. I was great and powerful. It was my choice. The bug was easy to kill. Easy to end its life. It was bothersome, then it was dead. Nothing of it remained except a faint memory of it annoying me. In time, even that memory faded. My life was ready to return to a normal schedule.

My clammy hands left an imprint on the cold glass door as I slowly pushed my way out of the building. The air conditioning must have been working overtime because the heat outside was intense. The sun momentarily blinded me as I oriented myself in the parking lot. In spite of the sunlight that assaulted my eyes, I could see the silhouettes of all the people by the street. They loitered on the sidewalk and the street, but dared not step onto the property. I couldn’t see their faces but I could feel their judgment. They were mostly women. Most of them probably had daughters in school my age. They spat venom in my direction and hurled obscenities at me as I got into my car and drove away.

I wasn’t sure why they called me a “killer” and a “murderer.” I mean, it was just a small bug.

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About Chad R Smith

I am an aspiring writer and a hapless motivator, hoping to spread a different perspective of the world and the chaotic ramblings of my mind with others View all posts by Chad R Smith

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