To Melona's surprise, tears had been running down her face for minutes, and her mouth was contorted into grimace of absolute misery. She had been breathing heavily for gods-only-knew-how-long, but as soon as she turned realized what was happening, she let out a great, racking sob.
"Why?" she asked the indifferent room as she fell to her knees. Desperate, pleading questions flashed through her mind. Why did she have to be so useless at magic? Why was she sent to an academy where she would be awful at everything? Why did she seemingly have everything a young woman could ask for, only for it to be rendered useless by her own miserable failure. She plunged her face into the carpet, letting her tears run down into the fabric.
It was useless. It was hopeless. She was useless. She was hopeless.
It didn't matter how long she practiced, what new methods she tried, or who she asked for help. Her best wasn't good enough. That's all there was to it. Knowing this, was strangely liberating, and yet it made her feel so small.
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