Taste of my own medicine

I hate rejection. There is probably nothing I can’t stomach more in the world than it. Because, honestly, I’m not used to it. Luckily, the one thing my parents always instilled in me was that there was no “not getting what I wanted.” I could have ANYTHING — so long as I put my mind to it. ANYTHING AT ALL. It had nothing to do with who I was or what gender or what skin color or how tall or how fat or what my shoe size was… ANYTHING. I could have it. If I put the work behind it and made the right effort. And for the most part, it’s been true. I’ve become less focused in my older age, but if I want something, I’ll have it because I’ll make the right moves towards it. But today… I got rejected. And I wasn’t even really pursuing. I made a casual nudge towards the idea that I’d like something. Not even giving the full court press for it. And I got shut out. Mentally I stood outside of this proverbial door with my mouth agape as if to say “WHAAAAT?? You shut the door on ME???” Absurd. But… I dish it out all the time. Ruthlessly sometimes. Because the other side of knowing I can get what I want is that if someone else wants something that’s not in line with my own wants… they gets nothing. So I’m a habitual shut-em-downer. Stings when it’s reversed.

Umma have to suck that shit up. Revenge is sweet though.

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