I am a failure. It's true. I cannot do anything. I fail so many times. It's sad really... this feeling of depression amidst even more depression. And the music I'm listening to isn't helping much either. I mean, there's only so much wailing violins and sentimental piano playing one can have. Plus, Steve Contre's angsty 'I wanna die' voice does hit that spot, pushing my buttons unintentionally (or not) and so I am resigned to feeling this horrendous pit of worthlessness.
But I digress. I was talking about failure. It is a lousy feeling. Not only have u let yourself down, you've let others down too. After all the good lucks, and the different sorts of advice all over, I have a great pressure on my shoulders. It is not me taking this test, but all those well-wishers and the stress grows. This is not to say that it's their fault of course. That duty is entirely mine. It just doesn't make it any easier.
So why call myself a failure? Currently, it's because I've crashed my driving test... again. And I feel, pardon my French/German/Mandarin, like a piece of brown-coloured dog poo baking in the Australian cancer-producing sun. I feel like cancered dog-poo. The lowest of low. All due to the fact that I've bump my wheel up on a kerb. FUCKIN KERB.
It's not the kerb's fault though. It does its job well, protecting pedestrians and all, and failing wannabe drivers.
It's just so frustrating to try and try and not get it right. You go into the test with a sort of nervous confidence and exit it with an utterly deflated ego, superego or id. It's harrying no less.
I guess it's not just the driving test though it will become one element of my life. It's my whole life in particular. I feel like a huge failure, and nothing is actually going my way. I dunno how I'm going to pull through the next few weeks. You see, it's not me I'm worried about, or my family... but the extended family. Or friends. When they will ask what happened, and I have to tell them the truth. By the end of tomorrow, the whole TANG/PANG Clan will know about my 2nd time failing. Cousins, uncles, aunts, granduncles and grand aunts will laugh and ask many many questions and there will be pity and scorn. Here sits PANG EE PIN, who has a degree but works a job selling books, who has no physical abilities whatsoever, who has not a girl to his name and now has been judged unsafe to drive on a tar road by the Victorian Transport Authority.
If this is how failure feels like, I wonder how does sex feel?
