Here is my first short blurb.  I hope you guys like it.

One day, while a young boy was watching mindless superficial drivel on television, he contracted a dreadfully annoying itch.  At first, he ignored it.  He continued attending elementary school, playing with his friends on weekends, and all the normal occurrences that happen at the age where you have insignificant worries.  Unfortunately, as he grew older, the itch became stronger.  In middle school, he no longer would “hang out” after school.  Instead he would have to attend therapy with other children with the same problem.  When high school started, it eventually completely took over his social life.  Not only did therapy take over his weekends, but the only people who interacted with were other children with the same condition.  Instead of talking about the nuances of life, he would only discuss and think only about his itch.  After college, the disease completely engulfed his life.  Instead of it being an annoyance, he has now embraced his itch.  In fact, he is obsessed with his itch.  At this time, even the social interactions with the other patients have been cut to a minimum.  The only people who he would talk too are the people who could help this itch.  More time has passed and now he has abandoned everybody.  He has come to the conclusion that nobody can help him.  Fuck the cream.  Fuck what everybody has said.  It is time for him to scratch this itch.  Day after day goes by and he would continue scratching his itch.  Harder.  Scratch.  Faster. Scratch.  Without noticing or caring, his scratching has started to make him bleed.  Faster and faster.  Blood dripped.  Harder and harder.  The blood continues to flow down his leg like a river of despair.  His family is telling him to stop.  He continues.  Oh my god, you can see bone now!  Everybody is worried.  Stop.  Stop!  Why won’t you stop the scratching!  Why won’t you stop!  The itch never fucking stops.  Why won’t it go away.  Why can’t he stop?  Then he finally scratched his last scratch.  There was nothing left.    Absolutely nothing.  Only an itch satisfied by death.

In this story, the “itch” was a metaphor for success.  How success can never really be satisfied.  We have a continuous obsession to get to that other level whether it be a better position at work, better GPA, better athletic ability.  Yet, when does it get too far?  When you want that success so much, you tend to give up things that are essential to ones life.  You give up friends and family, and everything that life is actually made of.  Instead you become overworked, and when you finally realize it, its too late.  Maybe I am just being a hater from not achieving that success.  Yet, I know that I still yearn for it, and I will still drive towards.  But, hopefully, I can promise myself that I won’t compromise my life due to it.