Looked Over

Maybe it was just my sense of common decency. Or maybe it was simply that he said "we love your work and would love to work with you on this project." Either way, I assumed we'd be working together. I assumed, after he showed me a photo of what they were going for - which I assured that I could offer - that I'd be a part of the going. That within months, my phone would ring or an e-mail would come through and we would collaborate.

But we didn't. And today, it bothers me. It bothers me more than I'm willing to admit anywhere but here, in Facebook chat with my best friend, and in a long rambling conversation with my husband on our couch... pre-emptively, in fact. That I saw this coming, because I - whether I like it or not - am incredibly good at math and logic. That mixed with my intuition is a recipe for figuring-things-out-before-they-come-though-you-hope-they-don't-come-true.

I can't decide, however, what bothers me most. Is it the being looked over? Or how about the who was looked at in my stead? Because like it or not, there is that whole piece of the equation. The part that makes it messier and far more damaging than something like this would necessitate. It could have been worse, as my dear bff so appropriately pointed out. But it also could have been better. It could have been someone that made sense given the... givens.

But those are my givens. My opinions. My expectations. And no one in the world owes me a living up to anything I build for them. It is their lives, their choices, and my art and business are no worse for the wear.