My Greatest Failure
McCulloch 1
William A. McCulloch
Professor Mejia
English 1301
June 11, 2014
My Greatest Failure
This is hard. A few years back I knew a young lady. Michelle was her name. We were not involved
romantically, but we were in a relationship. Neither of us had many friends, she because she was rather
abrasive; me because I have always been a loner. We met one evening at a Crown's Book Store where
we struck up a conversation about Terry Goodkind's "Sword of Truth" series. I found her to be an
extremely adept conversationalist! We walked the aisles comparing anecdotes about various books and
authors until the store closed. Then we sat on the tailgate of my truck, where we drank a six-pack of
Moosehead Beer and talked until midnight. Personally, this was strange for me, it is rare that I open up
to someone so easily. From that night on we talked almost daily, either by phone or we would meet in
Memorial Park. We would spend hours walking and talking about any subject that would capture our
attention: music, food, books, movies, and people.
People seemed to always let her down. We both shared the belief that it wasn't our place to judge or
condemn others. Accept others, "warts and all" was a saying that we both seemed to believe in. I
knew that Michelle was prone to periods of depression. When she was feeling low, she would call and
we would spend hours on the phone. I guess that it was a sort of therapy for her, but I just enjoyed her
quirky irreverence. Life happens, I became involved in a relationship and for a couple of weeks I
avoided taking several calls from her. I didn't even take the time to listen to her messages. One evening
I listened to all of my voice mails, as I listened to each message in turn I became alarmed at the
seeming desperation in her words. She was pleading with me to please call her because she needed me.
I immediately called her number. The woman who answered the phone wasn't Michelle. When I asked
McCulloch 2
to speak to
William A. McCulloch
Professor Mejia
English 1301
June 11, 2014
My Greatest Failure
This is hard. A few years back I knew a young lady. Michelle was her name. We were not involved
romantically, but we were in a relationship. Neither of us had many friends, she because she was rather
abrasive; me because I have always been a loner. We met one evening at a Crown's Book Store where
we struck up a conversation about Terry Goodkind's "Sword of Truth" series. I found her to be an
extremely adept conversationalist! We walked the aisles comparing anecdotes about various books and
authors until the store closed. Then we sat on the tailgate of my truck, where we drank a six-pack of
Moosehead Beer and talked until midnight. Personally, this was strange for me, it is rare that I open up
to someone so easily. From that night on we talked almost daily, either by phone or we would meet in
Memorial Park. We would spend hours walking and talking about any subject that would capture our
attention: music, food, books, movies, and people.
People seemed to always let her down. We both shared the belief that it wasn't our place to judge or
condemn others. Accept others, "warts and all" was a saying that we both seemed to believe in. I
knew that Michelle was prone to periods of depression. When she was feeling low, she would call and
we would spend hours on the phone. I guess that it was a sort of therapy for her, but I just enjoyed her
quirky irreverence. Life happens, I became involved in a relationship and for a couple of weeks I
avoided taking several calls from her. I didn't even take the time to listen to her messages. One evening
I listened to all of my voice mails, as I listened to each message in turn I became alarmed at the
seeming desperation in her words. She was pleading with me to please call her because she needed me.
I immediately called her number. The woman who answered the phone wasn't Michelle. When I asked
McCulloch 2
to speak to