I told him that I always fail in what I do.

I dance: mediocre.
I sing: not good enough.
I draw: too simple.

I would always cry in front of him, pushing him away, punching his chests frantically, telling him to leave me.

"I'm a failure!" I would always cry out, and he...

He would just take it all. He would accept my outburst, he would accept how down I was, he would accept how I always tell him that I am a failure.

"You're in love with a failure." I would tell him countless of times, wanting him to one day see that I am not worthy of his affections and care.

I've always been a confident woman, that is, in front of prying eyes I am. I should be strong, I have a reputation to uphold.

In front of everyone, even my own family, I would tell them how successful I am. I am trying this, I am trying that, I've been given a medal here- but, nothing of those feels fulfilling.

I want to excel in something, I just don't want to be second place. That is failure to me... to see myself not be number one, always... always, I am number two.

"I am in love with you and your failures." At least, to him, I am his number one. I do not have to fight for anything- not his affections, not his attention, nothing.

That is the only thing I revel in, and I love it.

Until, one day, I also have to fight for him. A woman, much more beautiful than me, much more talented than me; so much more...compared to me.

I could see it in...