Failure
We were walking to lunch today, in a group, because we are the Army and we walk in groups. The guy ahead of me starts talking about how he's going to fail tomorrow's test.
My first instinct, strong enough that my hands started to move, was to kill him.
Let me explain. This guy got a 100 percent on the last test.
And he has always done this. He always talks long and loud about how he, and everyone else, will fail. He won't. Maybe he will not do as well as he would like to do. But he won't fail.
I, on the other hand, did not get 100% on the last test. Not even CLOSE. I may actually FAIL this next test. This is not paranoia. It is the truth. I wanted to kill this kid, for saying it, and trivializing all the work I have been doing, the extra hours I've been putting in that no one else has to, for implying that a 96% would be failure when an 86%, or even a 76%, would be a major achievement for me. For talking about how bad he's doing, when he has no idea how it feels to be waiting by your chair during a practice test where you switch papers because you have made SO MANY MISTAKES that everyone else is done being corrected but your person is only halfway through. This happened to me today. That is failure. Not the other thing.
But as I walked behind him, imagining all the things I wanted to yell, and all the ways I wanted to snap his pathetic pale neck and break his stupid teeth I realized that this is something I've done my entire life. In the time when I did not suck at what I was doing. When it was easy for me, pathetically easy, when it was natural. When I could slack off and get an A-. I would talk about failure. Like I knew what that word meant.
If someone had confronted me, I would have said what this kid probably would have said had I yelled at him. To me, that is failure. It's lower than I want, so it is a failure.
But words have meanings. And the word failure has a meaning, and it's not that. Failure means no going back. Failure means you couldn't make it. Period. Not that you made it a few seconds late. Saying that this is failure trivializes failure. And it's not ok.
I swear to God, or whoever. When I get out of here, when I make it back into the world which is full of things I'm really good at and that are natural and fun for me, I will never use that word again if it's not true. I will say, "I'm afraid I am not going to do as well as I want to do" or "I'm afraid I didn't meet my goal". I will NEVER, NEVER NEVER AGAIN say that "Omigod, I'm going to fail, I think I failed" if that's not exactly what I mean.
...and you should consider this as well. You don't have to, of course. But think about it. It's a damn lie. When you say you fail a test or a class or something. Because failure feels a lot shittier than a 96%.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to study my ass off in the sad hope that it may in some way help me tomorrow.