Rejection? Projection. No Meaning. Rhyme only

I recently applied to an English kindergarten tuition centre, as a teacher for kids aged between 2 and somewhere older. In the interview yesterday, I stated how I got a full scholarship to study Secondary schoolin Singapore, and that I did succulent descriptive writing which content is as colorful as the electromagnetic rays and as swirling as Van Gogh's Starry Night, like I'm doing now. So basically I'm not that good. Anyway, in the trial simulation of the interviewer being a 2 year old stupi... I mean a 2-year-old centipede, that means child, but because of the rhyme, I presented the given materials and flashcards of myriad of different fruits to assisst in my trial presentation for kids, I did it so passionately. I chanted, rhymed, and sang the story books as though I was playing on a professional stage. It went with humor, I could imagine in the opposite of me all the children were laughing hysterically at my jokes I made upon the fruits story. Long story trimmed shorter version, I concluded just a few minutes before I got the idea of writing this short non fiction of one section of 2 of my 595,680 hours of living in this world on this earth, that if in an interview of a job position of being a barely instructor of a 2-year-old, who portrays the bare meaning of an initial human's journey in trudging this colossal world I failed, what and in which aeon is it that my architect dream will come true.

My life is a mess, '
cos under that dress,
she's got a P-E-N-I~S