For failures

The state of failure is always debatable. If we stop trying, then we truly fail. If we keep trying without changing our approach, that is another symptom of failure. And if death stops us, maybe that is the ultimate failure.

But failures also come between creations. Failure is like a quiet preacher who taught us many things with very little words. It is lurking within our fear, within our choices, within our comfort.

I think not many of us realize the tragedy of creating something without an audience. To know that almost nobody cares, and the walls we are talking to has been hollow all along. It is tragic not because there was nobody there in the first place, but because there were some people there. Then we lost them; our precious couple of eyes and ears that used to believe in our message and the vessels we built to convey them.

I remember the day I lost my first audience. I did not know that could actually happen. But it did. And the worse thing about it is that I no longer believe the audience is worthy of my effort. At some point, I found none of them care about what I was saying, and I started to see them as character killers, wisdom tainter, naysayer, or if I may be so bold, a massive ball of the egocentric machine.

And that is the failure I must endure every day. To constantly feel every excitement only to get utterly numb for everything I created. There is no pride in works, only checklists. To finish something I need passion, so I pour it all. Then I need to burn away all the love towards my works before someone burns them for me.

And for the little few who somehow still with me, reading every word. I say we fuck them all together. Yes. Let’s give our middle finger to those who do not give a shit, and enjoy this failure like we enjoy the guilt of eating chocolate cakes in the middle of the night.

Because we might not be worthy of an audience, we might die nameless without even being a footnote in history, but we will keep failing like a champ.