Recently I’ve been grappling with the idea of weakness. Weakness. Just looking at the word feels like daggers are digging deep into my chest. A taboo term we don’t like to throw around the table unless the term is aimed towards ourselves, then it’s greeted as if it’s an old friend. Why is it that we find the weakest person to be ourselves? It’s because we know ourselves all too well. I am the only person in the world who knows every single facet and aspect of my singular existence. I know all my strengths and weaknesses. I can pick out each and every imperfection and scrutinize it piece by piece. As of lately, though, I have noticed myself evaluating my self-worth by the number of times I hadn’t failed on a given day. For some reason, I have been determining my happiness on the basis of how many times I do or do not stutter. That, my friend, is a dangerous game to play.