I Have Failed Many Times

I Have Failed Many Times

by p.b. wells

anyone who says they are not afraid of failure

is lying.

believe me,

they are lying.

no bullshit,

they are lying.

they dress it up in clean words,

post it on a wall,

sell it as a scent

called Confidence.

but the truth is uglier

and way more honest.

in “Southern Cross,” Jimmy Buffett says,

“Think about how many times I have fallen.”

and that line sits there

like a rum bottle on a table

that’s seen too many midnights,

too many promises,

too many damn near.

to me, however, fallen is too eloquent

a word for failure.

and I have failed many times.

some of it loud.

some of it quiet.

some of it with witnesses.

some of it with only the ceiling fan

watching me spin.

and I’m damn sure

I will fail many more times

in the future.

because what else is there

if you’re actually doing something?

people love to talk about courage.

they want a medal pinned

to their busted jacket.

they want to be the hero

in a story that never sweats.

but courage

doesn’t have shit to do with failure.

failure doesn’t care

how brave you feel.

failure doesn’t check your résumé.

failure doesn’t clap for effort.

it just shows up

like a bill

you forgot you owed.

so it’s not about having the courage

to face it.

it’s about not caring

about the odds.

it’s about waking up

and placing your chips

on the table again

even when the table has already chewed you up

and spit you out

like gristle.

it’s about accepting failures

as the price of doing

what you want to do,

what you have to do,

what you love to do.

because it doesn’t matter

what you do.

you will either succeed

or you will fail.

that’s the deal.

that’s the whole damn menu.

and if you decide not to try

because the result is gonna be one or the other

and you don’t like a certain one of those outcomes,

then you’re only going to live half a life.

half a life.

a life where you stand outside the door

listening to the music

and calling it wisdom

because you didn’t go in.

a life where you skip the road trip,

skip the kiss,

skip the fight,

skip the canvas,

skip the page,

skip the leap,

skip the messy, shining disaster

that might have been yours.

you’re going to take a pass

on a helluva lot of experiences.

and those experiences

are the pieces that make you,

the bruises that teach you,

the sparks that drive you

to do what you must.

it ain’t courage.

it’s love.

love of the thing itself.

love of the work.

love of the sweat and the stubbornness.

love of the strange little fire

that keeps burning

even after you’ve poured rum on it

and called it a night.

love is what drags you back to the table.

love is what shoves your hand forward

when your brain is screaming

don’t do it again,

you idiot.

love is what makes failure

just the admission fee.

so yeah,

I have failed many times.

and if I’m lucky,

I’ll fail many more.

because that means I kept going in.

kept paying.

kept playing.

kept living the whole messy thing

while the music was still on.