Several years ago I read a short story similar to the one below, but it had a different, happier ending. I don't recall how it was exactly written, so I'm going to write my version...
I’m walking down the street minding my own business.
I don’t see the deep hole in sidewalk.
I fall in.
I can’t see any light around me.
I feel helpless, stupid, worthless.
Everything is my fault.
It takes years to find a way out.
I’m walking down the same street.
There is that deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I hit bottom, but this time
I’m standing in 2 feet of mud.
I feel so stupid,
I can’t believe I’m in the same place again.
It’s all my fault.
It takes a long time to dig my way out.
I walk down the same street.
There is that deep hole in the sidewalk again.
I see it has gotten bigger.
I easily fall in,
It seemed like the safe thing to do.
I can’t see anything.
Others are needed to help me out this time.
The fault lies inside me.
I walk down that same street.
I immediately see the increasing larger hole in the sidewalk.
I try to step around it,
But it pulls me in
until I’m laying face down in the mud at the bottom.
I don’t know how to find my way out.
I have learned nothing.
It’s years before I’m able to wash all the mud off.
I still haven’t figured out how to walk down another street.