The only thing you can do sometimes is run your race. I fell once, I stood at the bottom and looked up. But I got up, bruised, bloody and angry and I fought on. Now, I have to do the same, because for me to get what I want… I’m going to have to work a little harder than the rest. That’s just life.
I still have my goals, they were the same when I was seven, when I was seventeen, and still they are the same now. I hope to not be so self-centered as to take pity on myself– I’m not. I am going to smile, keep to myself, and enter the ring for round 2.
It is not about rather I deserve it or not, rather I was smart enough, athletic enough, knew the right people, or said the right things, all this year has been is a punch in the gut and a slap in the face, and I am left asking myself– “What’s it going to take?”
Things like this harden my heart in a sense, I become stronger, more coarse. Like someone working in the fields. Their hands never love the same again, because they are callused. I chose the hard way, and I wake up saying “that which doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.”