Balls To The Publishers

I am impulsive by nature. I don't know if I did the right thing. But I won't undo it, no matter what.
About two years ago, I think almost exactly two years ago, I suddenly woke up in the middle of one night and sat up straight. "You're 21 Rohit," I said. "21... where is the fame you always wanted? Do you even see it anywhere in sight? Do you see it happening at all?" I continued, as if there were two of me in that room.
There were.
The next morning I began writing a book. A book that I thought would be nothing less than a bestseller. A book that I thought, while I was writing it, no publisher would dare reject.
I finished the 300-odd page long thriller in three months - at times writing as long as 36-40 hours at a stretch, after which my fingers would refuse to move even though my mind wanted to go on and on, thinking if I stop now, I'll screw up the entire flow.
I was elated the day I wrote the last line of the book, which read, "This couldn't possibly be the end. I will come back, someday."
I rested that day. Slept for hours and hours.
The next day, began my confrontation... with reality. I was wrong. All along I was wrong.
I was rejected by three publishers directly - on the first go, and a few others said they would take "about one year to tell" me if they were going to publish the book or not.
I was disheartened, discouraged, screwed mentally, thinking I had written crap.
Eventually, a publisher, basically a printer (the ones who print marriage cards and visiting cards), said yes to my book.
A friend of mine sat and designed the cover of the book, I wrote the dedication, proofed the book a hundred times... and it went into print.
It didn't sell at all. Because the publisher didn't have the money to market the book. I had done my job, he had done his, apparently.
I asked myself, "Are you happy?" The answer I got was, "I think I could have written the book a little better." But I was happy I had one book published, no matter how badly it faired. And to be honest, the proofing left a lot to be desired. I woulnd't blame the publisher for the bad printing. He was after all a shaadi cards waala printer.
I started writing my second book, this time assuring myself, that I will write so carefully (unlike my previous book which was raw and "too top of the mind") that publishers would definitely love it. In fact they would beg me to give them the book.
I don't know if I was wrong. I went to two publishers - both rejected it. Why? They said "they don't give reasons for not accepting manuscripts for publishing".
Honestly, I didn't have the heart to try a third publisher. Maybe I should have.
But today, I REFUSE TO GREET REJECTION.
No more running around for publishers, nore more synopsis and first three chapters crap, no more couriers and letters, no more follow ups.
Here it is - my second book - an unpublished love story - AGAIN - open for the world to read.

I don't know if I have done the right thing. But I won't undo it. No matter what.