Belle Jar

I think the time comes when you have to admit to yourself that the invitations have gone out and you didn’t get one.  You will not be the belle of the ball.  You’re not even going to the ball.

That to me is the tragedy of America.  You can work hard.  You can be smart and decent.  And you still may not make it.  There aren’t enough dance cards to go around.  So what do you tell the Horatio Algers out there?  Why should we break our backs just to win a lottery ticket?  I’d rather invest my time and effort into an endeavor with a predictable return. 

I don’t know what I am going to do.  I am just lost.  I don’t know who I should be right now and I don’t know how I can go on facing my colleagues at the bar.  I can’t even put one foot in front of the other anymore.  I wish I could go to bed and stay there.

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