A Romanticized Visit to the DoL

As the sky did what my eyes could not, my feet clapped against the wet ground in what seemed like sheer disappointment. My hoodie hid the shame in my face as my phone pressed against my ear. A dial tone was the only sad song I wanted at the moment. Ms. Carpenter could wait on this rainy day. As I walked beside the road, each car sent a mocking rumble my way, and, passing the bus stop, I was reminded of my present predicament of Immobility, Dependency, and Inadequacy. Although, the word which rang in my ear, and eventually out my mouth, was an overused, yet sadly appropriate term for this occasion.
Failure.
Epic fail, as my contemporaries would articulate. A defeat or fiasco, as others would express. I prefer my choice of vocabulary.
Failure, standing on it's own feet, drives the thought of failure home, just as I could not.
Hello... How'd it go? Bad. I failed.
There it was again, echoing through my tunnel of thoughts, breaking out the archway of my mouth. I hated admitting my shortcoming. My bubble had been burst, or more appropriately, my tires had been sliced. They had been sliced by the knife known as the Department of Licensing, and the wheels were mine to replace.
I could use the excuse of quiet headphones, of difficult language, of someone else's mistake. I could say all the world was against me. I'm an American, right? I have the rights and privileges handed down from my countries' founding fathers to blame my problems on anyone else that I so choose!
Well, It was my fault.
I gotta go. Oh, Love you too. No, I'll be fine... Bye.
Now. Now was when I needed to take advantage of the roundabout in front of me, and flip my failure around! I bought a cookie. I drank coffee. I ate chocolate. I decided that the road to victory could still be close at hand, and I would give it a good, fighting chance!
I did.


Now, I hold my driving permit, ready and fit for freedom.


-"Failure is a detour, not a dead-end street." - Zig Ziglar