#rejection sensitivity

you saw my message.

but you never responded

...

It had me feeling like when I was in Rome and there were pushy street vendors who would literally put merch in your hands and then ask for money, except I was legit just trying to give them away?

I am not the rejections that I have received,

And if the kind emails are simply believed

It is not for my lack of skill or conviction

But rather an issue of oversubscription.

Real or preceived the failures press in,

They whittle away at my sensitive skin,

Making me worry that perhaps I'm unfit,

That I just can't deal with more of this shit.

The hope, then the let down, the 'I just don't have it'

Chipping shards off me, bit by little bit

Until more of me is scattered in shards on the floor

Leaving no more than a chewed apple core

While the world is demanding I give more and more

And I ask myself 'now what is this for?'

To make a living while staying true to myself?

Without risking my mental or physical health?

To prove to the world that I can do fine,

What everyone else seems to do all the time?

To continue to act like our world has a future

And not that its bleeding, bursting its sutures?

Now some might suggest this is rejection sensitivity,

And yes this is part of my natural proclivity.

I've been told many times I need thicker skin,

It's a vital necessity for the world that we're in.

And I know realistically that I will be alright,

I just wish that this life felt like less of a fight.

That my brain didn't tally every slight and rejection,

While seeking the unreal goal of perfection.

For now I will hurt, I'll mope and complain,