The Hell Butterfly

If At First You Don’t Succeed, Give Up.

I don’t want to fail.

I really don’t.

Failure is not an option. Well, it is, it’s just not the most attractive one.

I’ve chosen failure so many times before and look where it’s gotten me. I’m 20, still single, unemployed, almost flunking university and am posting about failure so that I don’t fail the Post A Day Blogger 2014.

Such is my life.

Today I had all the motivation to go into my lecture. The same lecture I skipped last week. Because I couldn’t be bothered with it. This week I told myself I was going to go, and I made it out of the house. I actually left a little late so rushed to get there on time. I made it. Funny though. When I got there I didn’t recognise anyone. Looked through the window – not my class. Looked at the people standing around nearby – not my classmates. Thought about the time – not my lecture. I arrived an hour early. I failed at trying not to fail. I tried to be a good student and I managed to forget what time to be there. I chose to go back home until the lecture would actually begin. It would only give me 20 minutes at home before I had to leave again, but I didn’t have my phone (dramaaa!) and so didn’t have the time. I had planned to walk around until 2, but without the time I wouldn’t know when to return. So I went home.

I never went back.

I began the day with good intentions and ended up sitting around in my dressing gown watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Despite telling myself I was going to go this week, I managed to fail even that. I later found out the lecture was on essay writing, and not what I had believed, so it was not a big loss. But that’s not the point. I still failed at coming through. I told myself I would go to the lecture and I didn’t keep to my word. It sucked. I mean Buffy was good – I watched all of Season One today – but that was only good while I was escaping. Now, the tv is off and I feel like a bag o’ shit. I failed myself.

This seems to be a recurring theme with me. I’ll have good intentions about something and tell myself I’ll do it, and do it right. But when push comes to the proverbial shove, I always let myself down. And it’s often not just me. Sometimes, other people get caught in the crossfire.

Like my biography. I’m meant to be researching and gathering information, collaborating with my grandad so I can write this damned book about him. He’s excited, my Dad is excited, my Grandma is excited, I used to be excited …

Since I went to their house to discuss it with them properly for the first time, I haven’t even called them. Not even to just say hi. I’m a failure as a granddaughter. And a failure as the writer of his biography. I would say I’m a failure as a writer on the whole, but I’m managing to keep up with the daily posts, and at least my novel hasn’t gotten worse. But as the writer of his biography, I’m a failure. He didn’t ask for one to be written. I thought it was a cool idea that I’ve been milling over for a couple years now. I offered to do it, was happy to at the start. I guess the idea of hard work and dedication is just not my thing. Perhaps that’s why my grades are getting worse. I barely passed my last essay.

Bet you ten pence I’ll have a little cry before this post is up. I’m having an Emotion day. It’s been sliding for a few minutes. Maybe more like twenty. The concept of failure is always right there in my head, but today it’s showing its ugly mug and won’t stop sticking its minging tongue at me. All I can say is, “Fuck you, Failure. You suck ass.”

I don’t want to bum you guys out, but hell I’m bummed out so I’m damn well gonna post about it.

What’s this blog good for if I can’t get mad sometimes?

So I passed today’s Post A Day Blogger ‘challenge’. Whoop-de-doo, Basil. It’s not going to make me feel any better about having only two days to write my Adaptation coursework, or having only six days to write my Victorian Literature coursework. It’s not going to make me feel any better about not having even a smidgen of an outline for this damn biography, or being stumped as to what to do with my novel. It’s not going to make me feel better about not being able to get a guy to like me, get a friend to stay that way, or get myself to call my family every once in a while.

No, today I am a failure. Tomorrow I will probably be a failure again, though I’ll have to pretend otherwise to get something done towards this coursework.

I’m also a quitter.

Some might say this is the same as being a failure.

Perhaps they’re right.

I’m quitting now, in fact. I can’t even be bothered to come up with an inspirational end to wrap things up all warm and cozy and make us all feel like failure can’t hold us down, that it can’t stop us. Because it bloody well can. Look at all the things being a quitter and a failure have done for me. This isn’t a cutesy post. This is a slap in the chops for me from life, and from me to you. Failure fucking sucks. But it can’t be ignored. If you can get over it, beat it down, then good for you, Slick. But I can’t. Not today. And probably not tomorrow.

Failure has kicked my ass more times than I care to remember. It’ll come back for me before long.

I’m off to wallow in my own self-pity now. Hopefully WordPress will give you a happy post to help you feel better.

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