For Bigger Fish

What is it about rejection, about someone telling us they don't want us, that always makes that familiar (or not so familiar) taste seep into our mouths? Even when we don't know it's possible to be rejected. When we didn't ask for a judgement, even when we avoid situation that would involve rejection, it's always there. Since there will always be people who want to dish it out, and who won't hold back, try as you might, you can't avoid rejection.

And so it comes.

The first moment when you can't breathe. Then the extra weight pressing down on your chest. And always the bitter taste of all kinds of failure. Sometimes there's even the sting of tears. But always, the quick drooping and quicker set of the mouth when hardness and anger come to replace the rejection, though there is still a pain settled over where the heart should be.

That's where it gets fun. You plan revenge. Pranks. Mind games. Elaborate schemes. Nasty rumors. In extreme cases, violence to the person or the person's vehicle (or other prized possession). You envision a future in which justice is meted out, with you watching from the front row. You picture the look on their face when you prove them wrong, or show them just what they missed when they passed you by. Usually, this stage is quickly overcome, and then you'll lapse into forgetfulness or apathy. But occasionally it becomes an obsession. At least for a little while, you'll dream of taking (literal) arrows and letting them fly into the tires of his car. 

Aren't we petty creatures? I hope someday I won't have to deal with this sort of feeling. But until then, maybe I'll go "kiss him, right in front of everyone, and tell him to go fry something bigger." Or in this case, I'll go fry something bigger. (Thanks, KarateKid)