As The Rock once said…
…it doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter how hard I try, or how hard I put myself out there. It doesn’t matter how much time I spend bent over words and lyrics, it doesn’t matter how much of myself I’ve poured into them.
It doesn’t matter how good I make myself look or how perky or professional I am. It doesn’t matter how I dress for an interview. It doesn’t matter how big my smile is or how good my eye contact is.
It doesn’t matter how hard I want it, or how much I think I deserve it. It doesn’t matter what platitudes I convince myself are useful, how many times I repeat those same cliches. It doesn’t matter how often I console myself with “It just wasn’t meant to be.”
Because I’m sick of not seeing mine despite working for it. I’m sick of being told to be optimistic when the facts lean towards pessimism. I’m sick of waiting for “meant to be” because that implies what’s meant to be right now is misery and disrespect.
But it doesn’t matter.
I finally know my role, so I’ll shut my damn mouth.
