Open Letter to the word "success":

Dear Success,

You stare up at me every day from my keyboard. Granted, you're not assembled yet, but I see you nonetheless. You taunt, you wiggle, you laugh. You revel in your power over me just as Delilah did when caressing Sansom's long, flowing locks - checking for just the right place to snip. "Come on big boy," you lilt "you know you want me. Here I am. Use me."

You lie in wait for the opportune moment. Maybe I'll need to describe a recent sporting even to a friend. You know the one where my favorite team suce--succesf--sucessf--scored the final goal in a winning fashion? Yeah, there you are again. And what's up with the "two-c, two-s" thing? And what's with the hard "c" followed immediately by the "s" sound in the middle where only two c's reside? You defy logic, you defy memory, you defy the very concept which you embody.

Were it not for multiple taps of the backspace key (seemingly the only one able to rein you in), my pages would be littered with pieces of you. Your incomplete formation reminding me of all my failures; my inability to complete what I start.

So, I'm done with you. I'm moving on. I'm ready. You're not all that no more. From this point forward "triumph" is my boon companion. We shall triumphantly march together towards our goals, checking off each accomplishment (with triumphant aplomb) as we go by. Others shall comment in wonderment: "Who is that man who cuts such a triumphant figure?" Like the Romans in Carthage, I shall sow your once fertile soil with salt, rendering you barren for ages to come. "Success", meet "failure".

Yours in triumph,