I can’t breathe.
I received a rejection email two hours ago as a gesture in kind, so I can “move on with other plans”, it stated.
I can look forward to the official rejection letter (with letterhead and proper signatures) that will only pierce my heart yet again, but in an official manner that will state all over again. . . .how much I suck, that I am not good enough.
The professor was kind enough to sign just her first name, making it informal in tone and so nice like she’s a buddy who can’t meet up for lunch or coffee. . . .not official, being that having her first name, last name and title would be too formal for an email.
I like the line that states, “. . . and hope that you will not let this deter you from finding the best path to reach your goals.”
A rejection is a rejection, and it hit me hard. My fault.
Whether this “deters” me from finding the best path to reach my goals will only come to fruition later as I reflect, ponder on where I went wrong, or let it get me moody and ultimately depressed.
I have high hopes, high expectations. I am confident in my abilities to excel in all that I do.
I spent 4.5 hours early on a Saturday morning taking the GRE Exam (which I didn’t study for, so why am I expecting so much out of this when I didn’t really prepare for it)?
I haphazardly put a research proposal together one week before the due date. . .
. . . so why am I surprised that I “cannot be accepted into the program at this time”?
Because I’m a brat.
I’m an entitled whiner, who expected to be admitted into something for which I didn’t try too hard to get into, nor did I prepare for it in advance because I was too busy to give it my best efforts.
Oh well. . . .still. . .I expected to get in!
*boo hoo hoo