It's that depression stage where you've been rejected twice in exactly a week for something you just love and adore. Feeling like I could knock back some drinks, perhaps not so much b/c OC doesn't want to drink, and drinking alone is just plain awkward.
Well I'm at that point where I want to look forward but am constantly reminded that I didn't make that cut. Perhaps I was just boastful with pride and joy, but then again ... when am I not usually like that?
So here we have it. I'm sitting in a room in the ugliest residence with an amazing Lazy Scholar which I recently found out serves really - I mean like really good ice cream. Anyway, two episodes of House later with some Woody's Grapefruit Vodka whatever which tastes pretty good, I just got reminded by some people that they were there. Without me..
They can say all they want that they wish I was there, some were truthful others meh, not in the mood to interpret them. It's just a painful process now. Something you love, enjoy, passionate for; shattered in front of your eyes.
Till other times, I'll be in a hole. A metaphorical one (:
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