Or I wish it was just like in the cartoons. Where you don’t fall until you look.
Wait. I think it wasn’t Newton in the first place.
Anyway, when your life is spiraling down, it’s pretty much infuriating to pick yourself up from the rubble.
But don’t lose hope. It’s not the number of times you fall that counts. It is the number of times you stood up (with grace) after the fall.
Can you believe I still fall at my age? I mean, I stumbled upon my own foot…just this August. Well, so much for that.
Be it literal, or metaphorical, I’m really vulnerable to different kinds of fall. Fall on the ground. Fall on the scholastic ranking. Fall into depths of anxiety. Fall into the wrong…you get the idea.
The greatest downfall for me so far was on my second semester in fifth year college. When I was almost graduating. But then, because of some circumstances, I left one subject behind. And so, I have to repeat one subject in order to graduate. Back then, my mindset was: “If I get a grade of 5.00 this semester, I’m going to get a flat 1.00 once I retake it.”
And I did.
It was just a matter of determination. If you held your hand to seek help but no else grabbed it, you’re left with no choice but to hold on to your very hand to pick yourself up. Actually it’s not a question of whether someone held it or no one held it. At the end of the day, saving yourself is your own choice. Take it or leave it.
Ever wonder why am I writing something about this? Well, I recently found myself going down that dark road again. The dark road of downfall. The dark road of rejection and misery. The dark road of people judging you.
I have to get back on my feet again. I have to prove, not to them, but to myself that I am no loser. I still have to take my vengeance. My vengeance of success.