Sorry I failed you. Again. For the fifth time in a row, or was it twenty?
Oh well. What do I know, except the power of failure, defeat, and rejection?
You call me a pessimist.
I call myself a realist, only I realize my weakness, even when you tell me of my many strengths.
You are always the optimist. You call a glass half full; I say I failed in filling it.
Everything works for you; you know what to do for everyone to like you.
What I don’t understand is what attractive bait I used to catch you.
Do you find me such a failure, a pet project if you will?
Am I the thing which proves your power to someone, maybe even yourself?
What do I know? I’m just a negative realist that reads in too much of the situation.
I fear my amount of negativity make people ill.