I continue to wait with bated breath. Every time a new name is called, I feel my heart sink further down… and down… and down. I begin to wonder, what’s truly the point? Why have hope that I’ll be chosen, when I’m doing nothing but breaking my own heart? It’s futile, it’d seem, so I try to lower my expectations, or perhaps, eradicate them entirely. How can I be let down if my hope is already on the floor? 

I watch, empty and shattered, as people walk off one by one, until I’m all alone. I stand in solitude, now too numb to truly care as the eyes examining me reflect disappointment. Disappointment, because they will be the one stuck with me–the one that no one wanted. It’s a feeling that consumes you, that makes you feel physically ill, to know that you’re unwanted. It’s no longer a fear, nor an insecurity–it’s a fact. 

Your last shred of pride screams at you to run. To value yourself. If they don’t want you, then they don’t get to have you. It’s their loss, right?

Unfortunately, you’re kidding yourself. That spark has been all but extinguished, and you’re tired. The cracks have already formed, and the feeling of being undesirable seeps in, and suddenly, you believe that you deserve this.