An Ode to How I Developed Low Self Esteem

How insensitive could you be?

My face ran hot with the tears that spilled over my dress and rolled to the floor.

The music fades and the china breaks,

the food now has no taste.

What started as a celebration was ripped to shreds with words that cut with more precision than a pair of scissors cutting thread.

That bittersweet feeling, like your favorite sour patch kid.

I had done no wrong, I had tried my best,

my performance made me weak in the knees, but I gave it my best.

Instead of pride and success,

I felt shame and regret.

I knew that after this,

I would never try again.

How hurtful could you be?