failed

I failed.

Spectacularly.

A catastrophic collapse of a soul once naive enough to hope.

Yes, I wear my failure like a crown of thorns —

not proudly,

but because denial is far too exhausting.

The world knew I was doomed the moment I entered it.

A cosmic joke.

A breathing paradox of existence and worthlessness.

Every step forward I took,

life — or maybe some cruel god —

shoved me ten steps back into the abyss.

I tried. God, I tried.

But the universe doesn’t reward effort,

it devours it.

I failed as a son —

an echo of disappointment in the walls of my home.

I failed as a student —

just a name on a list, followed by silence.

I failed as a human —

drifting through life, not living it.

And yet I persist.

Not because I’m resilient,

but because I lack the courage to disappear.

I exist in limbo —

not alive, not dead,

just breathing out of habit.