The prospect of facing rejections

I am a bit depressed today and worried. And yet in a short time I must gird up my loins for the assault on my ego. Rejections.
I hate rejections and I don't take them well. I know you are not suppose to take them personally but I often do. I got a rejection for some freelance work today. I was surprised. I hadn't expected it. I will sure I would get some work. But sorry, Charlie.
And I took it like a man -- or more appropriately, like a professional. Like the professional that I am. I e-mailed a thank you back to them for considering me although I wanted to tell them to just go fuck off.
So now I am playing "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" over and over, depressed and sad, and contemplating my fiction and what's coming next.
I e-mailed an author friend today who is in my critique group and asked for some help with my query letter. She said just submit it with my other material when my turn comes up again in the group. But that won't be for another TWO FREAKIN' MONTHS. I have worked on this query for about two months and I have no intention of waiting another two months before I send out some queries.
I feel like I have labored so long and hard, and that I'm still lost somewhere in a forest with no one to turn to. It's depressing. I don't know what to do.
I love to escape into my stories, reading and rereading over and over again the parts that I love, such as the scene in "Death at the Jungle-bunny Journal" where it is revealed who Charlotte is. Or in "Fighting Chaos" when Brewster meets with his old buddy in the FBI.
But I can't just live in the past in those stories. I must move forward. I just don't know how best to do that. And all the while I keep playing "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" because it is sad and it's how I feel.
I think fiction is my future. I certainly hope so. I hope I am ready for it when it comes.
In the meantime, thanks for reading. And don't give up on writing.