i thank you, says my small i, for confirming my worst and most deeply cherished fears about this thing i call my "self".
i appreciate your validation of my lack of worth. After all, there is no "I" to be valued.
It is precisely here that i fix my concentration: on the story i tell myself about why i have been rejected.
The insanity of it, the injustice, the demeaning and depressing heaviness of it, melt under scrutiny.
Leaving only the i, which also vanishes.
Had i sought validation from you and found it, my delusions of grandeur would have been fertilized, only to grow like beanstalks out of the fertile ground of my desires.
But as it is, you have let me know in no uncertain terms that my worth, whatever it may be, is not mine, and is not yours.
This is a gift of inestimable value.
i will take this gift with me to my grave.
Not as a burden, but as a seed of wisdom, a bolt of en-lightning, which in an instant can revive my gratitude for life, and relieve me from believing, as we all sometimes do, that i must be more than i am.
In the meantime, it will help me sleep better.