‘It is not a tragedy’ she says trying to sound both sympathetic and supportive. Trying so hard, but failing miserably. She can’t do anything to make this feel better. Poor girl, it is harder for her than it is for me.
What she does not know is that it is indeed a tragedy of the highest order. You see tragedy and I are old foes. I thought I had him beaten. Finally. I got cocky. Then in one foul swoop, he won again.
People often ask me why I am so cynical. It is because I know first hand that you always have ten failures before you have one success. That wanting something with all the passion and willpower you have means fuck all. That every time I think I’m okay, a personal tragedy happens to remind me not to become so complacent. I have survived 29 years and one day and happiness across the board has eluded me every day of my life.
Two years ago I wanted to die. I was convinced that my life was pointless. I look back on the time since and I have no tangible rewards, I have no house of my own, no girlfriend, and the PhD has made lackluster progress since: the three things that I want to achieve most with all my passion and will power. And yet if I had died when I wanted to I wouldn’t have met TCF, Miss Gravy and The English Lass: all three I count among my closest friends. And that is just one positive thing.
I promised myself I would play the long game. I will not let this defeat me, and one day, one day I will get what I want. I have to believe that for my own sake even if I don't right now.