Saturday, 15 June 2013
I got average results today, in an average boring envelope, an envelope I felt sick opening. Thing is, despite everything, my upbringing, the way I look, the way I talk, to any stranger I might look the simple plain character but I am not. I am not average or low standard. There's something in me worth while and sometimes I think I'm the only person that can see this. I need a chance to prove this and the only way I can is through my book. I'm crying now because my chance to push my book to people that might look twice at it is rapidly slipping through my fingers as this envelope is crumbling in my hands. I haven't cried in a while. I knew I was on top too long, and now it's crashing down on cue, the wheel of fortune spinning back the way it came. I'm crushed. I just want to curl up and try and work out a way to climb a mountain on my own but no ideas are coming to me. I can sense where this is going, I can see the rope breaking and I can't scramble up fast enough. If you gave me five minutes in a room I would make them see my light, I'd shine for them, but I'm not being given that chance. This envelope is ripping up the only chance offered. I don't know what to do now. I don't know how to force myself on these people right now. I haven't been this upset in a long time. I know I would have succeeded if you put me to fight for myself. These marks on paper mean nothing. I need no armour, nor solider, I needed a pen and I needed you, I would have fought my way through. Now I'll just cry and let it out, and I'll think in the morning.
Posted by Miss Siviter at 12:28