When I Failed

Photo credit: Biel Morro

I failed your test.
I’m sorry.
I didn’t do anything the way you planned out for me.

To pass your test, I was supposed to value wealth above happiness.
To pass your test, I was supposed to place my career above my friends.
To pass your test, I was supposed to care about what you thought of me.
I tried to pass; I really did. But I couldn’t do it. And when I failed you, I lost myself.
I froze, unable to move forward, because the shame was too great.

Years passed.

And when I could move again, I set myself a test of my own. And this is what I had to do to pass:
I had to be happy.
I had to be strong.
I had to have faith in myself, and in my own ability to know what is best for me.
I had to disregard your opinion of me.
I had to create.
I had to walk through every day with hope and joy.

I failed your test, because the woman that I had to be in order to pass it is not me. She never was me, and she was never going to be me.
I failed your test, but I passed my own. I didn’t just pass it, I aced it. I looked into the deepest abyss of my soul, and I emerged unscathed. I walked through fire and it did not touch me.

I wrote the answers to my own test. I called them happiness and love and life. And my test is the only one that matters.

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