Rejection.

Is especially a sore spot, much like a familiar sting. 
Once I have a sun burn and like a bruise, brushing against it brings that familiar prick.  Just because it is slight even familiar does not invariably reduce the pain enough to ignore.
I mean it stings.
It isn't life altering.
But that same burn makes the seams in my shirt undeniable, the Band-Aid never stays on a finger-tip paper-cut and lemon juice pairs as a zing to that resilient canker sore on the tip my tongue. 
The condition not so much a condition and not worthy of a Web MD description, hardly warrants slight sympathies from my contemporaries.
This scrape is more of a grit your teeth and bare it kind:  adorn with a Band-Aid, and put your big girl pants on. Suck it up, and then grin and bear it.

 

I think I will listen to forlorn music, finish my book and review some Bronte sister quotes (those gals knew suffering.) 

Not be quite ready to relinquish and stuff my mismatched feelings to the back of the sock drawer as a learning experience, today anyway.
My hopes frills and thrills, dreams and inner thoughts will remain that way today... away from scruples and sighs.