Almost

It's almost enough.  You almost got there.  You almost made it.  Almost.

"Almost is an accomplishment," they'll say, "it set you out from everyone else because you got a step further than they did."  But almost doesn't matter.  You can't take credit for almost.  Almost doesn't really mean much of anything to anyone at all.  It's nice padding, it can give a polite sense of comfort, it may be useful as emotional support.  As far as actual value though, almost carries absolutely no worth at all.

Almost means something only to those for whom it would not matter if it was almost or definitely or not quite or not even close.  Almost bears weight and significance among those for whom there is no need for such.  It impresses those who do not seek nor need to be impressed.  Where it matters, almost is worthless.  Almost does not mean a thing.

Almost is quite that--almost.  It is not enough.  It will not get you anywhere and it will not save you.  It may serve as the greatest source of progress and encouragement, or as a downright indication of absolute failure.  Which it is does not matter, for it can just as easily be either or both.  Almost enough is not enough.  It does not count.  Because where it fell short, it wouldn't have mattered if it had almost made it or if it had been off the mark by eternities.

Almost, then, is that commonplace beast that we come across so often in our search for the most elusive of creatures--accomplishment.  We spend hours of our lives searching, and all we get sometimes is this god-forsaken almost, that which allures us yet can do us no good.  Pity that, perhaps.