To be honest I still don't know how to put into words the feelings I had back then. All I know is that when the host mentioned another name as the winner, everything fell into deep silence. And then I saw people in tears. Happy tears. People were hugging one another, clutching trophies, exchanging handshakes. Slowly, I felt like fading. I just looked straight ahead without knowing where.
"There must be a catch to this, a punchline perhaps. There has to be," I told myself after realizing what happened. But the final number of the program took place, a song number performed with a Disney classic "Go The Distance." It was a motion blur. Until I found myself sitting inside a car. As the strong wind and rain of an approaching typhoon pounded outside, the truth began sinking on me. It ended so quick. Empty handed, I'm going home without anything. The winner took it all.
I was not able to sleep that night. I was thinking what went wrong, what I did wrong. And if so that I did something right, then why weren't they enough? But what made this loss such a huge heartbreak is the realization that I failed people's expectations. I wanted to say sorry. Not only for my mentors, but especially for my family and friends who always say "I can." I wanted to say sorry because I proved otherwise.
I felt shame, like a tattoo branded on my skin for everyone to see. I didn't just fail. I failed every person who believed in me.
I was afraid that grief would once again bring me into depression. Because if so, I'd turn sick again and then I can no longer hide the nagging pain I was trying to keep from everyone. I rant on Twitter about this, even behind verses, and this very entry, but very few people are aware I was taking this blow very hard.
Surprisingly, not even a single drop of tear were shed because of this recent failure. But always, its throws me into some deep contemplation where I still try to fathom the things I could've done differently. Sometimes, I chase that flickering flame of hope, consoling myself that there will be next time. Only, I would go back to the drawing table because, I think, that for as long as I am not able to determine where mistakes were committed, where I fell short, I'd met the same fate over and over. And that would mean another failure. Another loss.
I have not yet fully absorbed the consequences of this loss. This I'll have to bear beside the feeling of defeat. I should know that most people suffer the same as I have. I should know you can rise from every failure, and opportunities can spring from it, or something like that. But to borrow a favorite writer's words, "I look for resolution and find none."