All I have done for the past two weeks is cry. My hypersensitivity is only magnified by the little things in life that move me and/or break my heart. Like the moment I ran into my old friend, a couple weeks ago. I've always been a crier, but bawling in public? Not so typical. The bad review(s) haven't helped, obviously. It's hard enough to wake up and work on something that most likely will never see the light of day, even harder when the one book that has a release date is being swatted at like a fly.
It's hard enough to press on, against the odds, to find confidence in the cracks of doubt. To get up every morning and work and hope and feel good about working, hoping... Without the added pressure of eye-rolls and name-calling.
I always hated those booths at carnivals, the ones where the guy sits on the platform over the water and for two tickets (and good aim) you can dunk him in the pool of dirty water. I never thought (until now) that it was his own damn fault for volunteering to get dunked. Instead I just felt sorry for the guy and how every time he climbed back up to where it was dry, he would get dunked again.
I do realize I've volunteered to get dunked. Rejected. Called out. I'm not supposed to care what people think but I can't help it. Especially right now when even a dirty look throws me into a tailspin. A song on the radio causes me to pull over and sob in my hands. A less than friendly phone-conversation and I'm face down on my bed, howling.
I want to blame all this on hormones. That under normal circumstances I'd be swimming in the filth of the dunk-tank, smiling. Flipping off the bullies and shrugging off the bad days, climbing back on the platform, ready to take it all on, the good and the bad. The love and the loathing. But maybe that's a cop-out. Maybe that's just me making excuses for the fact that I miss old friends. And I care what people think. And I really don't want to be nice to everybody all the time, especially those who talk a lot of game with no follow-through. And I worry about stuff even though I say to everyone, all the time "don't worry so much! Everything will work out! It always works out!"
I know, I know... I know.
I'm not usually such a sad bastard. I'm really known for being quite cheery under normal circumstances. But right about now I just want to stop pushing, and selling and pitching and faking my way though "everything's awesome! Thanks for asking!" and take a long nap. No more spinning wheels in the mud. I want to hide from the dunk-tank. I want to go through the day without having to reapply mascara.
Hey, Bec? You have black streaks all over your face."
"I do? Oh. Let me go wash my face."
Ah, well... Maybe tomorrow.