"We regret to inform you..."

Eet - the button on a typewriter that allowed someone to return to where the previous letter was and type over it.

It's not that I regret a minute of the time I spent on this. It's not that I regret any of the choices I made, the things I did or the people I met. The only part of this that I regret is that I wasn't good enough.

I guess the truth is that I have nothing new to say here, besides that it's over. Hours of work, hours of complaints, hours of edits, and countless tears. What I put everyone around me through, needlessly (usually this hurts more to think about than the work I went through myself). Maybe I'm just not going to ever measure up to this.

It's not that I've never dealt with failure. I'm used to it by now; I have a good sense of what a rejection letter looks like... and I have an even better sense of what it looks like on other people's faces. The pity, the disdain, the concern - some of it good hearted, others not. Even worse is what it morphs into inside my head: I'm not good enough. I'm no longer worthy. They now know just how fallible I am.

There aren't any words that make this better. In fact, space and time is all it takes. Space to realize my own self sufficiency - to realize that I don't need to be taken care of, that I'm not a child, and that I can succeed on my own in at least the simple things in life. Time to see the other parts of my life that disprove my own theory of insufficiency. Time to let the sting fade away.

"It's like forgetting the words to your favorite song
you cant believe it - you were always singing along.
It was so simple, and the words so sweet - you can't remember...you try to feel the beat..."