Shattered Hopes

The abstractive preamble

The very scenario I had tried to avoid played out before me.

My hopes had been dashed into a thousand pieces. And all over again I had to start gathering the shattered pieces. 

Each piece, regardless of how small was too significant to leave for the wind to blow away.

I was standing on the fragile lid of a very deep well and couldn't afford to make any more mistakes. Because I stood the risk of having to climb from the bottom all over again.

The Story

After the final phase, I had been quiet certain that I had gotten it, only to receive a blow that threw me into a realm of anxiety and confusion.

Try as much as I could, hoping that it was a mistake, but even then, that thought didn't hold.

My mind flashed back to each step of the final phase, trying to figure out where I had got it all wrong,  but as at that time, it had been beyond my understanding.

True, I had to acknowledge the fact that I hadn't performed splendidly, though I had left there quite certain that only a word would set things straight. Unfortunately, the word that came served to confirm the veracity of the blow, which on it's own served to deliver another blow of a greater magnitude.

When I had finally gathered the pieces of my hopes together, I sent a message, hoping that it would change things, which it failed to do. Although the reply I got was a ray of hope shining in the dark corner of where I stood on a long forgotten island.

The abstractive epilogue

At that point my hopes had began fading fast as I grasped for straws, so as not to dwell again in the darkness of depression.