"That's quite the expression you're wearing, young man — far too heavy for someone your age."
The voice cut through the haze like a warm breeze on a bitter day. I blinked, startled. I hadn't even noticed anyone sit beside me.
An old man, perhaps in his seventies, had taken the other end of the park bench. He leaned slightly on a wooden cane, a soft wool cap snug over thinning hair. His face was lined with time, but his eyes — clear and thoughtful — held no judgment. Only patience.
"If you'd like to talk, I'm all ears," he continued, his voice low and calm. "Sometimes it's better to let it out than to keep everything bottled up inside. Trust me, I speak from years of experience — life has a way of teaching us that silence can be heavier than any burden."
I looked down at my hands, trembling faintly in my lap, and tried to form a response. But no words came. Only the ache in my chest.
Something about his presence, his timing, the softness in his tone — it cracked the wall I'd been holding up for weeks.
I exhaled slowly. Not a sigh, not quite. More like surrender.
"I don't know why, but… I think I do want to talk," I murmured, almost to myself. "I haven't told anyone. Not really. Not the full thing."
He simply nodded, saying nothing more. Waiting.
I stared out at the trees ahead. The late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting long shadows across the walking path. Somewhere in the distance, a child laughed. Life was moving forward — casually, indifferently — while I remained stuck.
"I failed," I said quietly. "Not just the exam. Everything. My parents, myself… everything."
The words felt strange out loud. Raw. Exposed. But once they left my lips, others followed.
"They never pressured me — not in the way you'd expect. No yelling, no threats. Just belief. Unshakable belief that I could do something great. That I was smart. That I just needed time. That I'd shine when it mattered most."
A tightness grew in my throat.
"But I didn't. I crashed. I gambled on one section of the paper — math — because I thought I could carry everything on that. And it blew up in my face. Hard."
The old man remained still, his gaze gentle. I didn't know if he truly understood, but he listened like someone who had once been broken, too.
"I can't stop thinking about them," I continued. "How they smile and pretend in front of others. How they avoid the questions. How they stay proud on the outside because they can't afford to break."
I swallowed hard.
"They deserve someone better. Not someone like me."
The old man shifted slightly. "But they didn't choose 'someone better,' did they?" he said softly. "They chose you. They raised you. And they stayed."
He looked out across the park, his voice growing distant, reflective.
"You know, when I was younger, I carried failure like a curse. Thought it defined me. But failure... it's just a chapter, not the whole story. And sometimes, the people who love us aren't hoping for success. They're hoping we survive the worst parts and come home still standing."
"Listen… Failure doesn't mean you're incapable. It doesn't mean you're weak, or slow, or not meant for greatness. Failure means you dared — in a system that never waited for you to breathe, never taught you how to recover, only how to keep running. You weren't given the luxury of rest — no space to fall apart safely, no time to understand your own pace.
But even so… you showed up. You tried. Again and again. That alone puts you in the company of every great soul who's ever lived.
Edison failed over a thousand times before he lit the world. Rowling was rejected by twelve publishers before a boy with a lightning scar became a household name. Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team. Steve Jobs was fired from the company he helped build. Every one of them was told — either by the world or by themselves — that they weren't enough. And still, they kept going.
Because the truth is this: You are not broken. You are simply unfinished.
And that's a powerful thing to be. Unfinished means there's more to come. More strength to discover. More chapters to write. You haven't peaked yet — you're still becoming. Still forging yourself in fire most people wouldn't survive.
So don't you dare measure yourself by where others are. Your journey was never meant to look like theirs. You're not behind — you're just taking the longer road. And some of the most beautiful stories begin with being lost."
At that time I didn't know but i would carry his words as gold with me for years to come.
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{A.N:- Words of Wisdom from this Kind Au.....huhmmmm hummmm damn this old man took my job of delivering the wisdom words, guys looks like today this kind Author has been left behind by an old fellow sooo no words from me. just you wait old man in next chap i will be the winner. }