They said it'll all work out.

But in the end, it wasn't worth the shadow of pain that lingered in the back of my mind like some foul smell that I couldn't get rid of. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, being constantly reminded of the regrets I didn't even know I had. I needed time to think. I needed time alone. I needed time to breathe.
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I was left gasping at the top of the fifty foot tunnel, the black water retreating behind me into the sea. I tried looking back but I couldn't see a thing. Yet I didn't feel sad or even slightly uncomfortable. The let down was too anti-climactic - not devastating enough to make me angry but not exhilarating enough to satisfy what was once my desire to succeed. I was overwhelmed with the feeling of not being enough and it drowned me in misery. Their disappointment was painfully obvious and their attempts to disguise it made it worse. This was the blatant, unfortunate truth. I wasn't satisfied. They weren't satisfied. Like them, I had tried to fool myself into thinking that it was okay. I had tried to tell myself it would all work out - but failure to hide the truth runs in the family.