I tried I worked I was committed I thought I was good. And soon someone wasn’t going to sugar coat anything. I was happy with my work and then they came along. They knew I thought I was good But they thought otherwise. And the told the truth. It hurt. I thought I was good. Good enough that I needed no help. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. And after that my walls came down. I cried and deleted everything I had written. And then I could feel them. They wanted to help. And they did. But I didn’t help myself. I accepted the help. I got better. But I built my walls up again. And I knew building them again would mean next time they fell, I could break. And I did. Pride made me build the walls. And pride made me build them again. And pride broke me.