As she mentioned name after name and I came closer to the realization that she wasn't ever going to call me, I wanted more and more to be swallowed by the ground beneath. Or at least the carpet on which my leather-clad feet were standing. Hmm, I'm wearing something more relaxed today, I thought. Maybe that was a contributing factor... Nah, my name really didn't deserve to be called. Regardless of how dapper I may or may have not looked.
I tried to wrap my head around the whole thing. I knew I didn't deserve to be called because of that one error I made recently. But must a single mistake overshadow, even erase all the good things one has done? Must it haunt one forever? For me, perhaps. My cross to bear.
I wasn't just sad (about the whole thing), angry (at myself) or frustrated (at the system). I was all of those, rolled into one. I couldn't get any tears to fall from my eyes, however, no matter how melodramatic I tried to be, if only to hasten the grieving process I knew I was undergoing subconsciously. I wanted to puke the sumptious meal my friends and I just had in celebration of their success. Because I always take photos of new food, especially desserts, that I've tried, and the cheesecake we had after dinner was something I wanted to review, but I couldn't post it because I didn't buy the dessert, and I didn't buy the dessert because I wasn't part of their success. And since I wasn't part of their success, I felt I didn't deserve the meal I was treated to.
I didn't puke. A while after getting home and doing some more thinking, I dunked my head in a pail of cold water. Because drinking a glass of water couldn't seem to cure my hiccups. I had hiccups because of the soda I was drinking...which was mixed with vodka.
Let me wallow in my sadness-anger-frustration for now. I'll be okay tomorrow.
P.S.: Dunking one's head in a pail of cold water? Good cure for hiccups.