Did not get the job.
In the highly likely event that this exact moment would come to pass, I tried not to get excited. I failed. So now I’m left feeling kind of devastated.
I was going to come home and do my workout. But I’ve never been more not-in-the-mood.
Who cares if I don’t lose weight? It’s all a pointless struggle.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to binge because of this or for any other reason. I’m too sad to eat. Too sad to do anything but sit here and glare at my phone.
I told myself I wouldn’t cry. I told myself I wouldn’t be bitter. But I’ve been at this for two years.
I give up. I’m never going to be a professional writer. Obviously I’m not good enough.