Humiliation

By: Shadowed Violin

Poem: My Sneaking Tears [Mark R. Slaughter]

Disclaimer: Neither the poem below nor the movie – Rise of the Guardians – belongs to me.

Note: This work is to be considered as an extract from Jack Frost's journal.

How heavy fell the rain that day

From burdened clouds of mournful grey.

The torrent forced them stay their height –

Composure swayed by onerous might.

My skin wrung wet with icy chill

As mud embraced that sodden hill;

But mind of mine had elsewhere gone –

'Twas clouds abandoned I was on.

The driving drops advanced their gears

To camouflage my sneaking tears –

Whence now did swell such floods of pain

To see me melt into this rain…

On equal bearing now were we:

This rain, myself, in harmony.

Year 316. Days no longer applicable.

Embarrassment is a word, an understanding that everyone has likely encountered more than once in their life. It sucks, that words' meaning, and all that comes with it.

Being Jack Frost, I know what you're thinking; How can an invisible being be embarrassed?

And my answer is simple, really; Easily.

I know the humiliation you bear is different. You did or said something that came out wrong, and suddenly you're the laughing stock of the week. Or your trip in front of the person you like and they laugh. That hurts, I'm sure.

But me? Compared to me you don't know the meaning of the word. There is a distinct difference between humiliation and embarrassment. To be humiliated is to be made out as a fool, to be laughed at and mocked. To be embarrassed is to do something that makes you look or sound foolish, and people inevitably laugh. Maybe not at you, but at your antics.

I, unfortunately, have the extreme unluckiness to fall under the category of the former word. Humiliation and I are practically BFFs – you know, best friends for-never.

The other Spirits' favourite pastime is to mock me. I know what you're thinking; That's it? A little mocking? Jeez, what a cry-baby.

You're wrong. Their mocking is a word that contains several meanings:

-Torture.

-Laughter (Tsar, does it never stop?).

-Taunting.

-Verbal abuse.

-Never-ending laughter.

I know I listed that last one already, but I don't think you quite understand the extent of its damage.

They say laughter is the best medicine.

Well, it's also the worst drug. It haunts you; echoes of painful memories. You'll be building a snowman on a crisp, wintry morning, white enveloping everything, and suddenly, red splashes across your face in a deep blush as you recall one of those horrific moments.

You can never forget. Or, at the very least, you'll remember for a long, long time.

For you, it's not too bad. Eventually, your body and mind will begin to age, and beauty as well as time will lose themselves. You will die. It's a fact of life – or death, I should say. See, you only have, say, a max of one hundred years on this earth. Maybe one hundred and ten.

But me?

Infinite seconds.

An eternity of time stretching out before me.

Three centuries. I've been the laughing stock for three hundred years, not three weeks, days, hours…

It never stops: they'll always be there, and so will I. We're immortal – we can't die. Believe me, I would know…

So you think you got it bad? Well, step into my shoes. That is, if I had any. My life is, to put it simply, hell. And slowly, this place is melting me, breaking me.

And I know I'm supposed to stay positive … But honestly? It's never going to stop. In three thousand years, I'll still be here.

It's never going to stop.

And nothing is ever going to change.