Rejected
to my top-choice college after spending the better part of last year obsessing over it. The worst part? I had a nightmare last night about getting the letter, and as soon as I woke up I knew it was real -- I just denied it until my mother called me this evening. This has happened before, the nightmare becoming reality. I bawled my eyes out for two hours straight, and it's continuing as I type. I actually vomited from crying so much; my head is still throbbing. My mom asked me if I needed to get mental help ("this sort of thing isn't normal"). Yes, Mom, I do, but I'm hardly going to admit that to you now.
I still feel as if this is all just a bad dream. I feel dead, although if not that I feel as if I want to die. I have lead myself on for so long, and this is - to me - an absolute testament to my sub-par intellect, my utter lack of true writing ability, and my general aptitude at being an absolute failure. "Changing the world and the way we think about it" is not in my future, nor is that sought-after label of a "brilliant young woman". I am not brilliant. I am nothing, and no matter how much I care about dance and writing and music and books and ideas, no matter how badly I wish to change this world -- there will be this self-evident dismissal, this "sorry-you're-not-good-enough" standing in the way.
I am not good enough, to be allowed to care.
This tossed-back/Into no answer, each hard storm of/Partial and endure--
(Laurie Sheck)
ironic.
don'tworryi'llalwaysbeabletohurtmyself
I still feel as if this is all just a bad dream. I feel dead, although if not that I feel as if I want to die. I have lead myself on for so long, and this is - to me - an absolute testament to my sub-par intellect, my utter lack of true writing ability, and my general aptitude at being an absolute failure. "Changing the world and the way we think about it" is not in my future, nor is that sought-after label of a "brilliant young woman". I am not brilliant. I am nothing, and no matter how much I care about dance and writing and music and books and ideas, no matter how badly I wish to change this world -- there will be this self-evident dismissal, this "sorry-you're-not-good-enough" standing in the way.
I am not good enough, to be allowed to care.
This tossed-back/Into no answer, each hard storm of/Partial and endure--
(Laurie Sheck)
ironic.
don'tworryi'llalwaysbeabletohurtmyself