Daily Challenge: Issue a public apology. This can be as funny or as serious or as creative as you want it to be.

A general letter of apology to general bygone opportunities to which I hold on, nearly-friend-groups, potential-employers, and almost-lovers:

I’m sorry I wasn’t enough.

I understand that in this day and age, you’re all looking for experienced personell to fill in a position and/or role you are currently lacking. Someone to make your company, your life, your circle, your project complete. Given the economy social climate, competition is fierce, and the number of candidates applying themselves to your Hunger Games of a selection process abound. As someone who has recently interviewed tens of tens of roommates, I know that choices have to be made, that personalities must fit, and that the ‘right person’ will come along and make themselves apparent to you.

That, however, does not change this: I still, and will always, think I would have been the better decision.

In all things contest and random opportunity-like, this means choosing someone more well-traveled, cultured, humorous, and generally adventurous than yours truly. While it’s apparent that anyone with access to a computer and iMovie can write and edit a day-to-day series of blog entries, know that you’ve turned down someone who could do it while actually entertaining the audience. I’m sorry I don’t fit the caucasian, above-above-average looks, and not-so-candidly egocentric profile pictures that all your final contestants seem to exhibit. Stuck with the racial ambiguity to blend in an average anywhere-in-the-world-city skin so uncommon amongst my people, I’m sorry I wasn’t a good fit for your program. Before I continue to the next life, I’ll request to be a bit more generic.

Nearly-friend-groups, this means choosing someone who is exactly like all of you. I didn’t drink in high school, nor could I afford over-priced adolescent fashion, nor did I participate in any athletic group sport that would improve my social status, which probably explained why I was never invited to your house parties or barbecues. I apologize for wanting to learn how to move on a dance floor, to immerse myself in literature, and to improve my worldliness through community service and travel. Heaven forbid that someone different be involved with your circle of friends, but given the fact that nothing has changed for any of you, I guess you are all quite content with your lives. I’m sorry that I personally thrive to constantly stay uncomfortable and challenge my personal beliefs on a regular basis, just to make sure that I keep changing with the world around me.

Employers, this means choosing people who have more experience than yours truly, and who have already established themselves in their career. I’m sorry that I apparently have talent that has yet to be used, given my lack of background in your particular career niche. You’ve decided to choose people who, after several years of practice and discipline and learning, have achieved what I have done in less than a quarter of a century. I’ll be sorry to say that once I have accomplished great things (that much is certain), I won’t be able to thank you in my acceptance speech. With more training and practice, I’ll surely surpass whatever menial skills you had requested for me; after all, an entry level job should allow me to enter a particular career, not make me want to come back in a Pretty Woman-like manner.

Almost-lovers, I’ve saved my apologies to you for last. I’m sorry that I wasn’t everything you were looking for. I can only assume you’re looking for someone who doesn’t have a good head on their shoulders, who hasn’t traveled the world on his own, and doesn’t know who he is without you. You must be looking for someone who’ll easily come at your beck and call, someone so emotionally maleable to be a booty call, someone who is available only when you want him to be. Whoever it is you’re looking for, I think he’s afraid to say what’s true, to be honest, to think deep and a lot. This guy, whoever he is, must be a real trophy, because his looks matter more to you than all the things you could have in common. I’m sorry I wasn’t, and couldn’t be, any of these things for you. Keep looking; I’m sure his path will cross yours, and you two can finally be happy.

This, my dear Readers, is what I’m most sorry for: not being enough for those who saw what I had to offer. It’s tough out there. Sometimes, after a rejection, all you can do is think about what you could have said, done, shown to get what you want. Thinking of all the flaws and aspects you lack, not fitting a certain criteria, lingering on the exact moment when things went wrong… It’s haunting. You worry that everyone who looks at you will see the same thing, the same flaws, and that no one will ever want to have you, employers, friends, or even lovers.

These kinds of things can force you to stay in bed for hours, days, weeks, without wanting to try again. I know from experience (unfortunately, this kind of experience doesn’t look good on a resume). But during a time when your happiness is determined by the effort you put in, by the commitment to your cause, by the passion you have for your own life, all you can do is keep trying.

Eventually, someone will see everything you are, for what you see in yourself. That’s all you can really hope for.

And that, dear Reader, is something to never be sorry about.


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