Novelas y relatos de You Couldn't Live With Your Own Failure

"You're perfect, and that's your weakness. You've never failed. Never lost. Never needed someone else to catch you when you fell." "Failure is inefficiency." "Failure is education." I felt my team's hands on my back—Katherine's steady grip, Valerius's clawed paw, Ben's trembling but present touch, Mom and Dad's fingers intertwined with mine. "Every mistake we've made has taught us something. Every loss has made us stronger. Every failure has been a step toward becoming who we needed to be." "Pretty words. But words don't win fights." "No," I agreed. "They don't."

What was the point? For once, maybe I didn’t need to pretend like I was fine. I wasn’t fine. I didn’t have everything under control. I was alone, falling apart piece by piece. After a few minutes, I finally wiped my tears away. I needed to get myself back together. I made that company really successful and I couldn’t sulk and watch everything go down the drain. I was Patrick Banks and failure wasn’t an option. As long as I was still alive, there was no way my company would be taken away from me. The time for being weak was over!

Constant reminded of being a failure. The weight of those words was crushing, a constant reminder that I was somehow less than, that I wasn't good enough. Every mistake, every misstep, every setback was amplified, echoing in my mind like a mantra of inadequacy. I felt like I was walking through a hall of mirrors, with reflections of my failures staring back at me from every angle. Every criticism, every rejection, every disappointment was a fresh cut, a new wound that seemed to never fully heal.

I asked the class loudly, writing the word FAILURE in massive capital letters across the board. I turned back to face the rows. "Psychology tells us that individuals fail due to a specific variety of reasons. Low self-esteem, a severe lack of self-awareness, and incredibly poor thinking patterns. These poor patterns mean they cannot process basic logic, blame external factors for their downfalls, and cannot focus on actual growth. And since we do not have a textbook mental picture of what such a defective person looks like..." I paused, pointing my marker directly at the back row. "...we will just make use of what we have readily available. Vickerry."

Real security came only from what one built themselves. This time, no one could take what was mine. From now on, I'd live for myself alone. —The End

Live or die. Succeed or fail. And the outcome of one’s life is solely dependent on choice, except of course the freedom to choose between life and death. I was a serial failure. I failed at a lot of things, a lot of times, because I had developed the mindset of a failure. I still wallowed in misery, blaming life and all of its elements for the pains and sufferings I had to endure. Mio padre and my brother’s were there for me in ways that I’d never forget.

"Oh, really? I don't know....I would never imagine that you would be in such a situation like that. We can actually bypass a lot of human failures if we make sure that we do the right thing." "Great... Thank you. I don't think you know what is but I'll take that compliment. I can only do the best that I can then see what I can do with the rest of my life." I still had guilt of deceiving Trent but what was I supposed to do when I only had a few moments to spend with him? The recent nightmares have even contributed to my constant fear of failure.

Before I could ponder on that thought any longer, Max asked her a question about whether she would be able to handle the amount of failure that comes with this line of work. Her answer made me physically flinch. It felt like a slap right across the face. “I can’t honestly say that the failures won’t disappoint me some, but I can say this. If I am strong enough to make it through losing two of the most important people in my life without letting it destroy me, then I am strong enough to use my failures as a learning tool.”

I couldn’t cry, I tried to but the tears were stuck somewhere deep. He’s right. I’d chased the national dance title for years. And failed. Again and again. I was a failure. Lisa fell beside me and held me tightly. “H-he’s right,” I sobbed. “I'm a failure, always failing. “No,” she said quickly. “Failure is part of success. Every time you failed, you learned. Look at you now. Everyone sees your potential.” I shook my head. “No buts,” she cut me off gently. “I’ll work bd get money fir mum, not that I love school anyways. You practice. We’ll win this.”

Instead, an emptiness settled over me, heavier than any burden I had carried in years. Failure. That was the word pounding against my temples. Failure as a mother, failure as a provider, failure as a human being trying to survive in a city that had grown cruel and unforgiving while I had slept for six years. What kind of mother was I, if I could not hold a single job, if I could not earn a few coins to keep food in my children’s bellies, medicine in Carl’s cabinet, and a roof over our heads?