I am Disappointment.
I’m the feeling you get when ice cream slowly tumbles to the ground, sad enough to be sad, but unimportant enough to not cry.
I’m that moment when you try on a pair of jeans and you look at the price tag. That hope mixed with anger mixed with grief. When you shake your fist at the invisible man who gave that green paper so much worth. When you go home and forget about it two hours later.
I’m those minutes you spend pining for the phone call that’s never going to come. That evening in gossamer lace and red heels and red lipstick and a black dress. Warm flames atop cold wax as the romance inclines, backs arch and forks clink lavishly on empty plates; but he didn’t even send a text. But the next first date always comes.
I’m the rejection letter into the Ivy League. Thin envelopes with thin words as your thin fingers go down a fat excuse. “I’m sorry to inform you…”. But you still move in, you still make friends, you still study just as hard at a school just as good, regardless of the title.
I’m all the opportunities you missed, those lightly thrown flirtations that you forgot to catch. That one job interview you failed because you’d been tossing and turning in a prison of sheets, condemned by the inevitable nerves. In the lottery of life, you’re going broke.
But still, for another guy, you’re a major league left fielder, never missing a ball. You put on those red heels and red lipstick and black dress and you get that call. You ace the next interview using your degree as a silver sword of accomplishment rather than a gold one. Your manager doesn’t like the look of gold anyway. You go back to that store and get those jeans; maybe even three pairs and that purse and that dress. After a war comes peace. After a storm comes sunshine. After Disappointment comes success. You’ll win the lottery some day. Then you can enjoy your ice cream.