To Wake A Mocking-Bird, Part 2

With spirits rejuvenated, or rather… intimidated, I continued on doing what I do best. 

Falling, that is.

Failing a lot. 

But also persevering, persisting… enduring onwards with every fiber of my being remaining. You ask me, I think I'm actually even better at that than failing. 

Once I stopped thinking, I was able to finally cast all my doubts aside. The thing about messing up constantly in a seemingly never-ending cycle was that in a strange roundabout way, it drastically helped to alleviate the pressure of starting over. 

After all, if you're still getting it wrong after the ninety-ninth attempt at it, then what's a hundredth, really? 

And thus, eventually, the high odds began to gradually even out in my favor. It started slowly, indiscernibly, barely warranting the attention it's even given - but with a careful nudge, a refined risk, the bubble I've been trying to blow popped a little later than usual.