embarrassment - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
I was mortified, frozen to the spot. I felt traumatized. I couldn't believe it had happened, and in front of everybody too. I stood soaking in the cruel laughter, my head beginning to spin. I'd never live this down as long as I'd live. People would be reminding me of this as I eat my mush in the nursing home. There was nothing for it, I'd have to leave town, cast off my identity and start off somewhere new.
Tom: "Get out before I break your God damn face."
Tom: "Don't push me, Grace. Get out."
Grace: "You aren't angry, you're embarrassed. Or maybe you're angry because you're embarrassed. Which is it, Tom?"
Tom "If you were even half as smart as you think you are, you wouldn't still be here."
Grace: "If you were half as angry as you pretend to be I'd have a black eye and broken ribs. Shut up. Get a grip. I don't need you verbally pissing all over me because your gun seized up."
I stood there frozen as I watched in awe at his expression. I saw nothing short of disgust on his face, almost hatred, as his face reddened with anger. He opened the door, stepped outside expecting me to follow, slowly I did. I had broken the rule...never come to his house uninvited, but why did we even have rules to begin with? We were in a relationship or so I thought until that moment.
My legs refused to move, too shocked, too embarrassed at his reaction after letting me in. This is the man who said he loved me, cared for me, yet I was being chased from his apartment like I was a nobody and for the first time in my life I understood what it felt like - being chased like a dog.
I watched him close his gate and walk away from me, not once did he look back as I stood there, the wounded dog that I’ve now become, licking my wounds, too embarrassed to move.
Blushing would have been no problem, but what I did was go as red as a beetroot and radiate heat like a hot pan. You could have cooked a three course meal on my face. No-one could have missed it. I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole. I wished to 'do a Daphne' and drop through a scooby-doo style trap door in the floor. But there was no rescue from this embarrassment. It was absolute. Torture. Utter humiliation. The memory would be seared into my brain forever, ready to pop up and torment me again when I'm ever in a quiet moment.
Some kids get grounded if they're naughty, some get their allowance cut, some just get yelled at. My parents were far more creative than that. They would pick some fancy dress costume and pick me up from school wearing it. Imagine your beefy truck driver dad turning up to your classroom door dresses as a Leprechaun, singing some silly song about rainbows and pots of gold. Imagine your mom showing up as a trapeze artist with her 'love-handles' poking out the back of the costume. Mine did those things and worse. If I stepped out of line they would kill me with embarrassment and I would blush the colour of cherry popsicles. My friends laughed with me and my enemies laughed at me.
He hadn't meant to do it, I could tell by the look of mild shock on his face and by his cheeks that flushed pink.
My eyes flew open as the row of heads turned to face me. They clapped once more and a smile quivered across the background of Miles’ matte skin. His eyes flickered between their gazes and the comfort of the rocky ground beneath us. He blushed invisibly beneath his black skin as he nudged himself towards my side. The giggle that rumbled out of his throat made his face transform to its former self. The one that would climb trees on a rainy day and the one that got caught stealing candy for me. He was embarrassed.
There's that moment between action and consequence, eternal and fleeting. It's when whatever you did has occurred but the reaction is yet to come. The seed of embarrassment gets wedged inside you ready to blossom red upon your cheeks. Whenever I recall my top most embarrassing moments, my personal hall of shame, that's where the memory always starts.
Embarrassment fell like a weapon of the Gods, capricious as they are. It was a torment for the meek, the ones not bold enough to be immune. The strong kids just toughed it out, not laughing with the crowd but looking nonchalant, superior despite their mishap. They left with unblushed faces, sighing like the others were immature to find it funny at all. But for Raymond it was cataclysmic; his face burned bright enough to outshine the sun and his mind scattered like a scared rabbit.
School was where we learnt our place in the world, not as doctors or engineers, but as bully or victim. Either you blushed easily and became prey or you were tough and were adopted by the "in crowd." Embarrassment wasn't an emotion, it was a weapon wielded without a trace of pity.
It felt like someone had suddenly turned on an internal heater inside my system, and my pale skin slowly turned from a ghastly white to a shade of a ripe strawberry. The warmth had now bloomed into a full blown, sweltering heat wave bursting through my pores and triggering the waterfalls in my eyes.
Too bad the water had dried up.
I started hyperventilating, and gasping for air- and my heart finally started thumping again. However, it was too erratic for my liking, triggering me to drop the microphone in my hand, and totter away from the stage in cruel, judging silence. The egg white dripped from the top of my head, all the way till my chin and downward; yet no one stood up to help me. In fact, their snickers still rung, harsh and cold, inside my head- sort of like a warning bell.
The ball of sweltering embarrassment had grown far too long since the start of school- and now it was on the verge of explosion. Quickening my pace, I slowly started to run out of the room in utter chagrin and onto the terrace, where my voice finally let out a guttural cry, and tears finally rained down from my eyes.