This American Rejection

Ree-Jeck-Sheeown. Damn, it feels like crap to want something really badly and then not get it. I got my second rejection letter from my favorite radio show last night. It was word-for-word the same as the one I received when I applied for the internship last spring. They had changed only the date—a form letter disguised as a heartfelt and personalized “nice try.” This one even came a week before they were supposed to make their decision, which I have decided means “hell no and please leave us alone.” I can take a hint. Me and Ira were not meant to be coworkers. Alas. I’m going to wallow this weekend. Wallow with all my heart, my little broken heart.

[Image courtesy of Susie Holderfield]