Thousand Chances

Man… you got lucky.

Yeah. …Eventually.

Lucky on the first one?

Nope. Lucky on the tenth?

Not even fucking close.

Hundred little masterpieces nobody remembers seeing,

Hundred brilliant plans hat apparently weren't brilliant.

Spent money. Lost money.

Changed everything. Changed back.

Thought I found the answer— turned out I found another way that

didn't work. And then one day— same idiot,

same hands, same ridiculous ideas— something hit.

Everybody looked up.

THEY'LL CALL IT LUCK!

LET 'EM CALL IT WHAT THEY WANT!

They saw the door finally open— THEY DIDN'T SEE ME BREAK THE

LOCK! One hit!

One night! Suddenly the timing's right!

Yeah, I got fucking

lucky— LUCK HAD A THOUSAND FUCKING TRIES!

THEY'LL CALL IT LUCK!

I'M NOT EVEN GONNA FIGHT!

If lightning's gonna hit somebody— I JUST KEPT STANDING OUTSIDE!

Here's the version nobody posts: Wrong idea.

Wrong month. Wrong price.

Wrong audience. Wrong fucking everything twice.

Built it. Killed it.

Fixed it. Ruined it.

Swore I finally understood it.

Didn't. Started something else by Tuesday.

People love the finished story 'cause the middle takes too long.

Nobody wants three fucking years of ‘Nope,

still fucking wrong.’ Then suddenly the numbers move.

Phone rings. Someone says: ‘Where'd you come from?’

…I've been here.

Oh.

That's what all that shit was for.

I used to think failure was the opposite of winning.

Nah. Sometimes failure's just the fucking pile you're standing on.

Every dead idea. Every empty room.

Every nobody-cared. Every almost.

Every not-yet. Put 'em underneath me.

Higher. Higher. Now tell me I got lucky.

YEAH, I GOT LUCKY!

LOOK HOW MANY CHANCES I GAVE IT!

Every swing that hit nothing

put another crack in the pavement!

Wrong turns! Dead ends!

Do the motherfucker again!

YOU CAN CALL THE LAST ONE LUCK— JUST DON'T FORGET THE OTHER

TEN THOUSAND! THEY'LL CALL IT LUCK!

LET 'EM SAY IT ALL NIGHT!

THEY ONLY SAW THE ONE THAT WORKED— I SAW EVERY ONE THAT

DIED!

Man…

you got lucky.

Yeah.

Again.