"Your performance was excellent, I just don't think you have the...look we're going for."

bellows a director from behind a table

casting his eyes down on my

scarred legs.

I think of this as I bite my tongue while I am told that 

rejection is not so hard.

"Rejection is not so hard"

says the able bodied white man

"Rejection is not so hard"

says the white man

"Rejection is not so hard"

says the man

He's only experienced rejection in moderation.

And you see, rejection is like alcohol.

In moderation it roles off your shoulders easily

and gives you a buzz that whispers

"keep going"

But then all of a sudden you've had to much to drink

It sneaks its way into your bones and makes you want to

shrivel up and die the next morning

Then you have more to drink even still

suddenly it is controlling everything you do

you can't escape its grasp 

you are unable to walk away

So this man is barely even buzzed.

he has a drink every once and a while 

and will have a minor headache the next morning

But I've been hammered for a long time

My first drink was in kindergarten

when I was told I wasn't allowed to walk with the others

Hang overs were the norm by 14 when boys began to ask

"what's wrong with your legs"

instead of "what's your number"

It is at this audition

that I wondered

what would be the right time

to get my stomach pumped

I was unsure how to 

fight the toxins of "no"

with the remedies of "yes"

Being told I was inspiring was no longer enough 

But then I came to NSLC

and gave new meaning to 

"go climb a tree"

I felt free

finally reaching a much needed sobriety

able to say "this is me"