A moment in time: Failure

I’m angry. My chest is a clenched fist of ire, squeezing the imagined embodiment of my own self-inflected debacle. My brow is heavy, and my eye brows crowd the bridge of my nose. My eyes peer out from beneath like furious green flames, boring holes into my monitor. My teeth, hidden behind a foul sneer, grind together, as if in futility tearing the stupidity with which I’ve behaved away from the situation.

I’ve been careless. I’ve neglected a variable. Several variables, actually, and in my calm, cool, collective idiocy, I put all balls aloft, expecting to juggle them away. Evidentially, one sat unseen and untouched, and it’s become an issue.

It could have been avoided. I’d been given several opportunities to cast the remaining ball into motion, but some how I skillfully managed to avoid my responsibility, masterfully, even subconsciously procrastinating it into malignancy. I’d like to stand, raging and growling, eye to eye with myself, and punch myself in the face. I’d like to knock myself clean out for a week, and perhaps pound a little sense into my dense, gigantic head.

As the sulfuric self-aggression subsides, I slide into a weary, depressed melancholia. Having righteously beaten my ethereal self satisfactorily into state of oblivion, I begin to think. Thoughts of retribution turn restorative. I’ve managed to fail in my duties, to a point where I’m unable to rectify my situation by myself. I shall hence forth be of no use, at least as far as a resolution, and it rankles. I must ask for help, and the very idea turns my stomach. Be it pride, be it unreasoning self-expectation, I cringe at the thought of someone else sweating my debts from their pores. I don’t know anyone on life who has a spot on their plate for my just desserts, yet still, I need to ask them to make room.

I’m ashamed. I’m embarrassed. I’m undeserving. I’m almost hoping they tell me they’re unable to help, so I thus avoid causing them the grief of picking up my pieces, all the while wondering if I’m likely to repeat the mistake, and further inconvenience them, possibly to the point where they’d like a shot at me too.

Perhaps tomorrow the negative energy and the acrid storm cloud over my head will have ebbed enough that I may see a path that had been obscured. For now, I’ve little room in my mind for hope. I deserve the mental blaze of self-depreciative fury that I’ve lit within. Perhaps in enduring it I will have taught myself a lesson.


7 thoughts on “A moment in time: Failure

  1. I wish I was as elequent when I lose it with myself! Aw hon, what’s done is done, nothing but to move on, albeit a little wiser and more cautious for the next time. Easier said than done, I know. I inadvertantly embarrassed and humiliated myself dreadfully recently, and I am still furious at my crass stupidity – but hey-ho – so long as there was no malace intended, which in my (as I am sure is in your)case, there wasn’t, there is little to be achieved by endlessly beating ourselves up over it.

  2. Wow. How do you REALLY feel?You beat up on yourself about as well as anyone I’ve ever witnessed doing so. I like you, though, so I’d appreciate it if you cut my friend some slack, OK? We’re all human. Whatever happened, the sun will rise tomorrow.Unless you’ve triggered a nuclear chain reaction that will blow it out of the sky. You haven’t, have you? I hope not. I have a softball game Sunday.

  3. lol Actually, the blunder wasn’t all that bad. It was an old credit card debt that went into collections and I missed the court date. I got a threatening letter about getting arrested, etc… Naturally I know that if you call them and work it out, it all goes away, so I knew it wasn’t exactly as bad as all that. All is well with them now that they’ve got some scheduled payments and such, but I’ve never lost a court hearing before, and I wasn’t even there to experience it. Hell, I thought it was next month! One of the things that’s been in the back of my mind though is that back in middle school, we had an exercise called “A moment in time” where you picked one moment and wrote about it as descriptively as possible. The goal was to make the reader relate and try to get them to feel those feelings. I wasn’t very good at it back then, but I had no interest in writing at the time. While I knew I could rectify the situation, I thought I’d take that moment after reading the letter and put my immediate feelings to pen.

  4. While this is still one of my favorite posts, I thought I’d pop back to it, and say that the debt has been repaid. No imaginary likenesses of myself were actually harmed in the making of this post or the clean up of the mess. …not too badly, at least.

  5. I just have to say it. The way you write is amazing. I know that your emotions here were about anger and all but the way you talk about it…wow. I just wish I could write as intense as you.

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