Kissing Failure Goodbye

“There is no place for you here,” Failure declares, direct with no-nonsense in her voice. She holds a clipboard with hundreds of names written in neat rows on crisp white paper, and it appears she found my name there.

She smiles, and it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you for trying, regardless. Perhaps I’ll see you again?”

I think of the thousands of people who have been turned away before me, who also became the subject of such an apathetic riddance. I think of how hard they worked to get to where I am now, and the moment their dreams shatter when they are told that Failure has their names on her hands.

And then I look at Failure and think of the gate behind her, and the millions of others who made it through, whose name Failure never saw, or those whose names she had seen perhaps ten times over, before it disappears from the list and she grants them entry. They’re all the same, they all made it over.

It becomes that simple, just like that.

“Alright,” I challenge Failure. “Until next year.”

“And the year after, perhaps,” Failure reminds wisely, because she is ruthless like that.

But I am relentless, like many others who Failure must have met before. So I look her in the eyes and declare, “Next year, and then I won’t see you again for a while.”

Failure tuts, but the corners of her lips are pulled into a small smile. She rolls her eyes, and I wonder how many people have seen her like this, like an older sister who secretly wishes you all the best the world can offer but plays the bad cop to motivate.

“Fine,” she says, a hint of fondness in her voice. “Get going, then, don’t you have massive self-upgrading to do?”

I flash her a grin and leave.

1 year later.

“Looks like I won’t be seeing you again,” Failure looks up from her list, moving to the side to make way for me.

I laugh, intense relief coursing through my body. I make my way to the gate, and then look over my shoulder right before I push it open.

I tell her, “I will. I will always seek you out, and I will continue to be a better person because of it.”

I hear Failure laugh for the first time, and it sounds like a ringing bell. “Okay. I’ll see you again, and you will be better for it.”

And it’s not a threat, nor a challenge. It is an invitation, one that I will always accept over the course of my ascension in life.