The Emotional Rollercoaster Known As Rejection

I don’t know how to handle rejection.

It has never been a dilemma I had to endure throughout the 16 years I’ve inhabited this planet.

Yes my deeply ingrained inner repulsion for myself will always plague my thoughts, but thus far I’ve been able to rationalise these assumptions through a selection of, so-called, “coping mechanisms”.

Most of which included a multitude of boys (and some girls) all used for my own personal gratification, sucking the life out of each being who stumbled across my path, smothering them until I am all they breathe.

And once I have milked my Romeo of every last compliment I salute them goodbye without a second thought for their own wellbeing. So maybe this is karma, a life lesson of some sort…

My tarot reading for 2020 essentially told me to stop seeking the external validation I so often crave and step out of the limelight. Maybe this is the universe teaching me one of those hidden life lessons we hear about so often in storybooks.

Preaching that I don’t need to make another unsuspecting soul fall in love with me to justify my life my body and my choices to be deemed worthy. I have never had to face proper rejection, yet it is my biggest fear.

The fear that I’m not good enough for one fairly average looking, incredibly skinny guy with floppy brown hair and a miss proportioned nose. The fear that he won’t see me as an intelligent, metaphysical woman here to make his life better.

*Notice how I prioritise the word intelligent over cute or sexy*

As much as I yearn to receive praise and acclamation based on my appearances I don’t want to be the known as the cute girl anymore.

I want to make crazy boys who have weird chin fluff and smelly armpits fall involve with me through nothing but my mysterious, mischievous mind and my eternal persona. I am a complex creature.

I am capable of portraying a multitude of different personalities and physiques. I want someone to be able to look deep into my eyes and say “wow… that is my soulmate”. To see me for me. Nothing but my authentic self, no masks, no funny business, just Rosie being Rosie.

But I feel as though I may never achieve that, at least not with my current mannerisms and the outlets I am using to direct my energy.

My priorities are too miss matched. Old me would’ve stayed up all night texting a good-for-nothing member of the male species who doesn’t give a shit about me. But I am not her anymore.

I now know how to manage my time to benefit my transcendental self (or so I claim). Instead, I’ll stay up all night working on my intangible, witchy spells and impalpable tarot readings.

I’ll stay up meditating and stretching both my physical and intangible mental being. Painting my toenails a quirky new colour that certainly doesn’t match my skin tone. Because through writing this, I have unlocked the realisation that I do not need the external validation that I have been pursuing all these years.

No, I need nothing but my own mind, full of the wonder and mysteries of a life I have yet to live.

Rejection is now an adversity I can say I have experienced and overcome, and I know that I am no less of a person because of it.

I’m prettier now that I don’t care.