Ruined food

If you've ever wanted to do anything exemplary, you'll know that that journey is filled primarily with failures. Those who end up with anything worthwhile may start seeing them as successes; you overcame them after all, didn't you? That's a success, right? Maybe so, but that's a little optimistic for my blood. So, I'll call it what you did at the time -- failures. There's a discomfort I get from that struggle that I hate to feel as much, if not more, than how much I love the satisfaction of success. And here's an observation: that struggle isn't very similar to hunger, except that they're both undesirable yet inevitable. And cooking food, which you may have to do if you get hungry enough, is one of those things you can fail at. Let's say you decide to experiment with your food. But while cooking, that oh-so-common uncomfortable feeling starts spreading through your veins while a worry pops up in your brain: "What if I ruin this food?" Your hungry state of mind isn't helping to calm you down, and after cooking, you prepare yourself to eat -- it smells alright, but for some reason, you fear the worst. You take a bite, and it's terrible. You would have almost preferably gone hungry for the rest of your life than taste that, but here you are. While holding back the tears, you walk to your window, where you hungrily stare at the buildings. Even in all their beauty, they can't solve your hunger-filled disappointment, but you have to work your way through it, at least that is, if you still want to continue learning.