When You Try So Hard But You Don't Succeed

Failure’s a big, broad term with so many definitions and it’s just so hard to pin a definite meaning to. For me, it’s when you try so hard at something and you don’t or can’t get the results you want. I can count a million ways that I’ve failed in my life and it’s miserable to think back. That one hot summer day when I practically body slammed a stranger thinking it was my best friend? Yeah that was awful. Or that one time I put so much into a relationship only to have it turned against me by someone saying that they just weren’t as into it as I was.

But the worst failure in my life is probably a compilation of the times I’ve failed myself.

I like to pretend, in my life, that I have strong morals and a huge sense of self, that I know exactly what’s good for me and follow it. Instead, I really don’t know who I am and what I want in my future, beyond the obvious of a good job and a happy life. My morals are ever changing and shady at best – I believe you should just do what you want and say to hell with what everyone else wants. But there are times in my life when even those small, certain ideas I feel are true, just get stomped all over; by me.

I can’t, and really wouldn’t, go into detail about the specific two moments I hate the most in my life. But what I will tell you is that when I was about to do something, I stopped for a moment and reflected on the choice I was about to make, and just knew it was wrong. Instead, I did it anyway. And every single time I think of all of the consequences and nasty rumors and painful encounters with the people I made these bad choices with…it hurts. It hurts not because those terrible people exploited me or lied to me, but because I knew they would. I knew it was wrong and I proceeded anyway and that kills me every single time. I could have stopped and stepped away and said “I’m sorry, I can’t do this, this doesn’t feel right” but instead I stayed quiet, ducked my head, and just let everything happen.

I can’t escape those choices I made. They’ll follow me for the rest of my life and every time I glace through my yearbooks, I’ll see those people in them, smiling and being happy because what happened to me, my internal conflict, doesn’t mean anything to them. They don’t care. And that’s why I should have listening to my gut feeling and stepped away and gone home and told my mom and cried. But I didn’t. I failed myself and my morals and my past and my future because those stupid choices I made will be with me forever.

I’m not old and wise or young and wise, even, I’m a kid who messes up. I don’t know how I’m supposed to plan the rest of my life when I can’t even pick what shoes to wear in the morning. But I can tell you this much; I will not make t hose mistakes again. I may continue to fail myself and other people who love me over and over and over again, but I will not let those mistakes define me and be something I do more than once. I am stronger than my bad choices.