The Bitter Taste of Rejection.

If I had to describe it, I’d say it feels a lot like swallowing razor blades. You’re painfully aware your insides are being ripped apart but that the damage was also somewhat self-imposed. After the blades are done churning, a small man creeps into your brain and tells you what an unfunny piece of shit you are. He chirps all day. To the external world, you appear normal but inside you’re bloody, mangled and talking to a person who doesn’t exist but is also the worst representation of yourself.

I feel that way now. And that’s fine. It will pass. It always does. The funny thing about feelings— good or bad — is that just as you think you’ve got a hold on them, they’re gone. The same goes for disappointment. In this moment, as awful and as painful as it feels to have worked so dreadfully hard and failed at this thing, I know there will be more things to try and fail at. So I have to go find them.

Some genius once said, insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I get it now so I’m going to try something new.

Right now, i’m grateful for having had the opportunity and content to sleep knowing tomorrow’s a new day, with new challenges to face and razors to swallow. Funny, I suppose with time, they too go blunt.