You also notice that the right side of your face feels like it's sliding off of your skull. And your bottom lip is in your lap!
My art school rejection letter arrived as a cold manila fist that closed around my fragile hopes. . . The fear was practically edible. Nothing would happen unless I get out and make it happen. Then, as if handling me the keys to the jet pack, my dad bought me a typewriter and a taped message to the inside of its case: "Son - the world is waiting to hear from you".