Tuesday, January 02, 2007


There was a time when failure ate at my soul. It drove me nuts. I felt that to be equal with everyone else, I had to be perfect; infallible. To make mistakes meant that I wasn't worthy. Now, don't even start telling me how other people aren't perfect. I know that. Knew that then. But I felt that I was so far from perfect that if any cracks showed, the whole facade would fall apart.

I didn't even want that one small hole in the dam.

Reality is that I'm not perfect, but I'm not as far away as I once believed. Tonight, I realize failure once again. A part of me longed to curl up and cry - believe the world is over because I failed again.

The truth is, I tried. I could crawl into a hole and never try again. Walk away from life and hide because I don't want to feel failure. I don't want to hurt. I don't want that searing pain. I could have done that many times in the past few years. But I didn't. And I have much to show for it. A great home. Cool colours on the wall. A red sofa. Going back further, I could have just not tried to leave the small town. God knows what I'd be doing, but I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have the friends I have.

When I got divorced, I could have stopped trying. I wouldn't have AlbertaGirlie in my life. I wouldn't have memories of impulsive road trips and great parties. Or Vegas. I wouldn't have a renovated bathroom. I wouldn't have WoW installed on my computer.

So, granted, I've failed again. And it hurts. Dear god, it hurts. So much that I look for bruises, but there are none there. It's hard to believe all this pain comes from inside and doesn't show at all on the skin.


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