4.21.22 || hypothetical mourning

4.21.2022 // written after receiving a rejection email regarding my audition for the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts

--||--||--

I waited for months for their reply. MONTHS. Submitted that audition video in late February and waited until late April and now  the waiting is finally over.

Do you know what so much waiting will do to you? You go through stages, like the stages of grief but for a completely hypothetical misfortune.

I was starting to worry. 

Maybe they never received my video. 

And then, a more terrible horror. 

Or maybe they DID, but my email ran out of storage again and I haven’t seen their reply because it’s blocked.

Panic for a little bit. Then race to the computer, hash out a hasty email to the admissions team. Could you let me know what’s going on? There’s some comfort in that. At least now I know I did all I could (I should probably still clean out my email though).

The next day, I got a reply. Your video is currently with the audition panel. And that drew out my hope for a while, but it doesn’t stop the waiting and the wondering.

I got the email today, and it made me so happy. I wanted my mom to see me opening it in case it was a yes. At the very least, they could consider me for their foundation course. 

But no.

It’s short and sweet, and endlessly polite, as every one of my interactions with the British schools have been, but it’s still a no. No recall, no foundation course, no drama school. Just no. 

I tell myself I won’t cry about it, I have so many more options I’ve been discovering, but my voice betrays me with a wobble, and then mom tells me to come here and she hugs me and then I can’t help a few stray tears from leaking. 

I expected a no, if I’m honest. That’s what I was preparing myself for. But it’s the waiting, you see. Time with no resolution magnifies everything. The joy of being offered a place would have been so much greater. And even though it doesn’t come as a total shock this time, it was the endless waiting that dragged out the suspense and just… dropped me. 

I feel like I’ve been dangling over a cliff for two months because the person offering me their hand couldn’t decide whether to pull me up or not, and then finally decided to let me go.

As long as there’s a chance, there’s hope. I had a little bit of hope for two months. And now I finally have resolution. 

I haven’t lost all hope. There will be many more rejections before I finally get a resounding yes. This is far from being the last time they hear of me. 

But it would be nice to have a little belief along the way, wouldn’t it?