Oh Destiny, Destiny

You very quickly begin to feel like a piñata in a world of ten-year-old bullies when the only thing you are known for is something you did not, cannot, and will never be able to do as a result of a striping failure to achieve. When identity attempts to salvage it’s broken shell pieces there is immediate condescension and disdain from onlookers, as if my piñata might as well be filled with shriveled and scorned prunes. It is as if people think I want what I got. True or False? FALSE – I hate what my life has resulted in, so I walk self-blindfolded and schlumping down a Carolina Blue plank for the next however many years.