Flush

It's that purple taste of disappointment I've been getting a lot lately. Somewhere on the back of my tongue, by where I swallow back all the childish retorts and frustrations that creep up my throat. Sometimes I feel like I'm only good at one thing, and everything else is "no" "no" "no" "sorry, but no." And even that one thing I'm good at still is "yes I really like this, except this part, oh, and also this, and maybe not this at all ever." I'm tired of the "no"s, I'm tired of the tiredness of "it just didn't work out." I'm tired of feeling like I'm not progressing, like I'll be stuck at my menial job with my average grades and my un-dynamic life for the rest of it. And not because of anything significant, but just because, well, "things didn't work out."

I know none of that is true. I know I'm good at a lot of things. I know that I've actually been pretty lucky with the "yes"s I have gotten. I know that every "no" is for a reason. And I know that with every "no" I do progress. In fact, I know that without "no"s, I wouldn't progress. But I needed a place to vomit all that purple frustration.

Sorry, blog. I didn't mean to compare you to a toilet.

Somebody I Used To Know -- Gotye