you mock my pain,
cheering me on.
like —
for real.

i’m annoyed.
a bit hurt.
disappointed,
because my first attempt
didn’t work.

you tell me it’s okay —
when it’s not.
you say it’s an easy fix —
i know it is.
yet i sit in the grump,
because i wasted time,
energy,
looking forward to this.

if it’s a let-down,
you say, ten percent of it is.
i say, ninety —
so you argue,
i’m too pessimistic.

bite me.