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I, Failure.

Listen carefully, because this is important.

You are going to fail.

There will come a time when you will think it was all for nothing, all of your time and effort, you will think it was a waste.

You will look at all you have accomplished, all that you have done, and you will not feel pride at the things you have managed to do in the face of resistance and adversity, but a numb despair that, after everything, this is all you have to show for it, these shabby relics, these nothings.

You may consider quitting.

Maybe you will quit, you will tell yourself that it isn't worth it, that arriving at the destination is not worth the hardships of the journey. You will try to walk away.

You are going to fail, and if you fail, you are then a failure.

You will be a failure.

Maybe you have had nothing but success up to this point, maybe you begin to believe that the usual hardships have just passed you by, maybe you will begin to think that you are just lucky, or that all the warnings have been overblown.  Maybe, you tell yourself, all those others that came before you just weren't that good.

You may have begun to believe that you are special.

And then on the day of your failure it hurts that much more, it burns, because you had begun to believe that you were somehow immune, or had done something different.

It will hurt you when you fail.

Even if you expected it, even if you thought you had prepared for it, braced for it, even if you were resigned to it, it will still hurt.  You might not tell anyone, you might not ever speak about it, you might put on a brave face and straighten your spine.  You will say it is fine, you will say I'm okay, but secretly, privately, it will still hurt.

Maybe you will want to share that pain and you spread it out, you say or do things that will make people feel the way that you do. Maybe you want others to fail too, so you are not alone.

Nobody wants to be a failure.

But it is inevitable.

Maybe you quit, maybe you walk away.  But there is something there right, something that keeps bugging you, like an itch, like a whisper that you can't un-hear.

It wants you back, and you realize that working for something is better than living for nothing. That itch, that whisper, it has a name.

Hope.

So you look again at your failure, your fall.  You get up off the ground.  This is stupid, you tell yourself, you are just going to fail again.  It is inevitable and it hurts every single time.  Arrival at the destination is just not worth the cost of the journey.  It is stupid, you tell yourself.

And then you start again, because every time you try, you grow, you learn, your wounds heal, and your scars fade.  Every time you fall, it is easier to stand back up.  You stand, because even falling is better than never moving forward.

Stand, because we are not meant to just lie on the ground.

That terrible part of you, that cringing, flinching part of you, it is scared and small, and weak, and it wants you to be small and weak too.  It remembers the pain, the disappointment, the darkness and the fear.

It does not like failure, because failure means growth, it means hope.  And fear hates growth, it abhors hope.

I have something to tell you.  Listen carefully, because this is important.

I am a failure, a giant wreckage of rejection and broken dreams and shattered expectations.  I have failed again and again, disappointed myself, hurt people that I loved with my callousness and lack of empathy. I wish I did not have to write this, and I am glad that I have.

I want to tell you this truth.

I am a failure.

And that is good.


Still Writing,
RP
2-25-19



Broken record time here: I am off all social media until such time as I am not.  I want to focus less on writing dumb tweets that nobody cares about, and instead pour my energy into writing novels that nobody wants to read.  email me if you feel so inclined; dissent.within (at) gmail.com, comment here, or on Twitter @RDPullins
Hope and peace to you and yours. Cheers!  RP




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