He was a failure.
He’d heard it his entire life. It had fucked him up so bad, that he never even tried anymore. What was the point? He’d just fail anyway.
His mental health was shot all to shit. Days blurred together as he slugged through his dead end job, desperately waiting for it all to end. The blessed release from his misery couldn’t come fast enough.
He would never kill himself, though. He stood firm in his belief that suicide would only transfer his pain to the people he loved most. What would his wife tell his children? “Oh, Daddy didn’t love you enough to fight.”
Fuck that.
He wasn’t really fighting, though. He’d resolved himself to his lot in life.
Multiple times, he has tried to overcome his fear of failure, but each time, he seemed to just fuck things up. What should have been an easy decision, always seemed to put his family in a bind.
And each time he’d see that disappointment in his wife’s eyes, he’d just sink deeper into his depression.
Even when he really tried; when he had all the tools at his disposal, it still wasn’t good enough. He was still a failure. It was exhausting to hear all the time.
Not a good worker, not a good husband or father; basically a failure as a human. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to try to make things better, but he always came up short.
He was tired of all the fights. Tired of constantly feeling like a failure, and being told he was nearly daily. How could he fix it?
He had to find some way to stack the deck in his favor. There had to be something he could do.
He’d tried everything he could think of, though. It seemed, in the end, he was doomed to be a failure his entire life.
1.7562 Billion Miles 