📖 Văn bản Câu chuyện
I remember the morning I found out I hadn't won the award; the room felt smaller, like someone had turned down the lights. I had paid the submission fee, rehearsed my little speech, even practiced how I'd pivot if they called my name—what do you do in those three seconds when your heart is arguing with your face? My friend said, 'You tried, that's what matters,' and her voice was steady, but inside I felt bubbling frustration, a low, humming knot. That feeling is honest and important; it's frustrating because it proves you care. Later, I turned that sting into fuel—I wrote two new pieces that wouldn't have existed without the rejection. So now, when I look back, I see that the loss was both teacher and unfair judge. I still want to win, of course, but I'm learning to keep going even when the scoreboard doesn't match the work in my hands.