This is what it's like checking my e-mail now: I'm so excited, thinking, "This could be it, this could be the time I get my acceptance e-mail." But then that fucking "You have 0 unread messages" banner bloops up, and I'm lowered to new depths.
It's like Christmas morning in third grade, when all I wanted was a Cabbage Patch Doll, and I opened all my presents thinking this is it, then no, it isn't. The next one would be, then no, it's not either. Then the last box, this one is it, it's gotta be, then blammo! It's a doll, alright, but it's a rip-off fake cabbage patch that my aunt made, not the real thing with a birth certificate and everything. I act happy to get it, I smile and squeal because I know we're poor and this is all my parents can afford and if I reject it I reject them, but deep down I hate that doll. Deep down I want to take a pair of scissors to the arms and rip the hair from its head. Getting no Cabbage Patch is better than getting a fake one, every kid knows this, but somehow this concept has managed to elude my parents.
I'm not quite sure how this post devolved into a stream-of-conciousness about my poverty psychosis, but there it is. Maybe the empty inbox isn't so bad. Maybe I need to take a few deep breaths and go write something.