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.