I don’t think you can disappoint me,

At least not easily.

*sigh*

I think it’s difficult to disappoint someone

Who believes that every hope is a gun.

I realize this, in itself, sounds disappointing,

But let me take you on a journey.

 

In walks the girl who thinks she can sing

To auditions for solos she wants more than anything.

She walks into the choir director’s side room

And reminds herself of her imminent doom.

“Forty other girls want this part.

You might as well hit restart.

Power off, shut down,

Close the door, you’re a clown.

The rest of them are better than you,

They all hate you,

Pity you,

Thinking ‘What is she trying to do?’

You suck.”

 

Two weeks later and she holds her breath.

The solo list is posted and she walks forward

One,

Two,

Three,

Four steps.

She looks the list through too often to count.

“I got no solos, I’ve let myself down.”

Another girl walks up and is complimentary,

“Hey, great job getting understudy!”

“What’s the point if I’m not the best?

You knew you were awful, give music a rest!”

She’s so good at this stuff,

But she never thinks she’s good enough.

 

She doesn’t know this yet,

But the psychologists call this the Fortune Teller Effect.

“Everything that I want badly

I fail, I’m destined to be unhappy.

Trick yourself into not wanting it,

Then at least you can predict

That you have a fighting chance

At some laughter, song, and dance.”

 

Part two to the sadness

Is her assumptions are reckless.

Rank seventeen, GPA 4.3, golly gee!

“There’s been no one more inane than me!”

She’s used to academia coming with ease,

But her best friends are rank one, two, and three.

Her sister complains of falling to rank thirteen,

And when she says she’s stupid no one knows what she means.

“What’s the point if I’m not the best?

You knew you were awful, give school a rest!”

She’s so good at this stuff,

But she never thinks she’s good enough.

 

Disembark to an Internet search

And her brain will make a wild lurch.

“I never win what’s important to me.”

The Internet suggests the Fortune Teller’s Disease:

‘When you believe it will all end badly,

Just because you think that’s anticipatory.’

“I’ll admit my mindset isn’t logical,

Now’s the time to be sensible.

Remember

Last September:”

 

“For that one club you won the presidency,

Almost won another but gave up the seat,

Made it into show choir every time you tried,

You won the art competition, got so happy you cried.

You’ve admitted your mindset isn’t keen,

So why, to yourself, are you so mean?

You run to your journal and are only explicit,

Stealing happiness that makes you the richest.

Listen to how insane you’ve been.

Don’t you dare say you’re inane again."

For the last five years you’ve hated yourself,

And to be satisfied you waited until now.

Why didn’t you just let go

Of your harmful, well known life motto?

‘What’s the point if I’m not the best?

You knew you were awful, give it a rest.’

But you were so good at that stuff.

And now you can start to feel good enough.

 

I don't think you can disappoint me,At least not easily.*smile crack*I think it's difficult to disappoint someoneWho used to be a self-pointing gun.I realize this, in itself, sounds disappointing,But I've been on a journey:The story of The Fortune TellerWho stopped believing what the losses told her.When I turned the gun and changed my  mindset,I learned winning comes from a resilient spirit.Willing to try even after I fail,This is my former Fortune Teller tale.