Time for another instalment of Stream of Consciousness Saturday:
Okay, so this post isn’t about cigars. I figured I should say that, right off the bat. There is no mention of a cigar anywhere, from here on out. I just liked the phrase.
Every damn time, it felt like, I got so close and then the floor just dropped out from underfoot.
I could see where I wanted to go, where I wanted to end up, but somehow I missed the mark, every time.
I had gone to school for years, fighting so many obstacles, and it had been both rewarding and hard work.
I almost got held back while my friends were off to high school, but I had managed to avoid that at least.
But now, I was almost at the end, but not quite. I guess “almost” is a relative term, because I actually only had half the credits I needed to graduate, but in the grand scheme of things it felt close enough to my mind.
Right around this time a song came out that I would equate with this feeling of frustration, that I couldn’t quite do it. I had been almost at the end of the road, but I had to face the fact that I would be left behind.
I’d lost everything. It felt like I had nothing to show for all that hard work. How was I supposed to get over this disappointment I felt?
The anger in the song mirrored the anger I felt at myself, for almost making it to the milestone, one so many parents celebrate for their children, but I had fallen short.
I was almost certain I was letting everyone down: my parents, the teachers that had helped me along the way, and myself of course.
Almost wasn’t good enough. I hadn’t been good enough.
Next would come two relationships. Two years. Two-and-a-half. Same disappointment. That’s life sometimes, I suppose.
I could blame it on my bad health and illness, bad luck, or maybe it was me.