Writer's Life

The Reject Game

My cursor hovers over the “Submit” button and it takes all my willpower to click it.  I breathe a sigh of relief until it dawns on me that this was only the first hurdle. Days pass and I feel like dying.  The crushing uncertainty makes me stumble through my existence, hoping against hope that the search would be over.

I make it into the final round of interviews despite my clearly-anxious mannerisms.  I admit that I’m nervous but only because I’m excited for the opportunity.  The interviewers and I exchange pleasantries and questions.  I start to relax as the interview paces in time with the universe.  For once in this process, I’m not lying awake in the dead hours of the night in paralyzed anxiety.

Just when I think the interview goes well and I may have a chance to land the offer, an all-too-familiar email with the subject line, “Thank You For Your Time,” arrives in my inbox.

A tempest fueled by conflicting emotions burst from within and consumes me whole.  Anguish gnaws painfully in my gut.  Salt fills my mouth and I choke on my own voice.

Trash, worthless, useless…

Why even bother anymore?

They’re to blame, I’m to blame. 

I did my best, I did my worst.

What is wrong with me?

A touch, a shout. Something beyond the storm.

“Don’t let this end you!”

Continue? Quit?

I open my eyes and breathe.

Continue? Quit?

The storm dies down to a breeze.


My cursor hovers over the “Submit” button…


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