It hurt. I wept like a baby. I was mortified. One was impassive, the other kept talking, reasoning. I couldn’t respond. They talked. I shut down. I wasn’t expecting it. I was mildly happy with what I’d sent them. Perhaps that was the problem. Ego. Pride. Vanity. I fell. My wounds still smart. My eyes are puffy with crying. My head spikes with tension. Jabbing. I am sorry now. I was a child. But it hurt. And I was scared. Am still scared that I won’t get it done. I won’t get it right. That I will fail. So be it. Try. Just try. That is all you can do. That is all I can do. Ever.
