Not so familiar

For the past few years, I had been yearning for a day that finally came and ultimately slipped through my fingers. I had never been so consumed by a single goal, so determined to achieve something, only to fall short in the end.

At first, I cried my heart out. The weight of failure felt so foreign, and the sting of not getting what I had hoped for was unlike anything I had experienced. I had always worked hard and given my best in everything I did: whether being a topper in school, landing a job I worked tirelessly for, or managing volunteers and budgets with care and responsibility. Success had usually followed my efforts. This failure felt different. Big. Strange.

I wished I had not cared so much, that I had a backup plan, but no, I was hopeful. I was looking forward to it. When the rejection finally arrived, I felt five seconds of pure dissociation. And then, the tears came again. I had to break the news to my family, who were just as hopeful as I was. I had to crush their hopes, too.

The next few days were a blur of venting, bitterness, and frustration. Everyone around me tried to console me, telling me I deserved better, that I had worked hard for this. But those words only made me feel worse. They reminded me that people cared, but I did not want to hear it.

Over time, though, I found a strange form of solace in physical exhaustion. I started working every alternate day, so tired that I did not have the energy to think or contemplate. But even that did not work. My mind would still go back to the “what ifs.” If only I had achieved what I had dreamed of, my life would look so different now.

It has taken time, but I am starting to accept that I did not make it. And yes, I get it: my headspace does not define success. There will always be uncertainties, mistakes, and setbacks along the way. I still have not fully processed what I lacked, but my heart wants to cry. It feels like it does not deserve this.

But here is what I remind myself: if you want better, you have to make it better.

It feels like the spark has gone out, but I know deep down that it is not gone forever. The spark was never only in the outcome. It has always been in me, in who I am. And I am still me. This failure, as foreign and heavy as it felt, has taught me more than many of my successes ever did. It has shown me resilience, patience, and the strength to keep moving forward.

This is not the end. It is just a setback. And setbacks shape us. They make us stronger, more resilient, and more determined. I know I will rise from this with even more clarity and strength.

The hopeful me believes that when the right moment comes, I will be ready; not just to receive it, but to embrace it fully. My story is still unfolding, and so am I.