I Am Not Special

There’s nothing special about me. I’m pretty average. I am from a small town in Connecticut. I just finished being an intern at the age of 27. I wouldn’t say I ever exceeded in anything. Not in sports or school. I have brown hair and brown eyes. I am nice and smile a lot.

I don’t have any tattoos or piercings besides in my earlobe. My hair is the average length. I like doing the typical activities. I like hiking, but I can’t do fifty miles in a day. I like running, but I will never run a marathon. I like traveling, but I will never travel the world. I enjoy writing, but I will never be a famous blogger. I’m not cool or chill. I will always care too much about pointless things.

There is nothing that stands out. As someone told me, people aren’t special, but the problem is that I do believe that some people are. People have that unique quality. Makes them stand out in a crowd. Makes them succeed at something at least. Has them be chosen. The ambitious ones. The go-getters. The ones who are brave. The ones who are social. The one’s who had all the lovers in college. The ones that everyone stares at when they walk in the room. The one that has all the friends. The ones who always know the right things to say. The ones who go to the most exciting concerts and cities.

No one wants to be the one or be with the one who has anxiety attacks. The one who still doesn’t know what they are doing with their lives. The one who is falling behind in everything. The one who sees success as something they will never achieve. The one who doesn’t necessarily want the future to come because they can’t see anything good. The one who doesn’t even deserve anything good.

My point is I’m not special. I’m trying to be okay with that. You know those movies back in the day? A movie where someone found out they were special in some way and had to go on a grand adventure? Yeah, I always wanted that. It captured me. Maybe people are right, that I’m a dreamer. I’m always dreaming of being something that I will never be. That maybe I knew from the beginning that I wasn’t special and that is why I was so attracted to the idea of being special.

So again, back to the reoccurring theme of my life: why would anyone choose me? I see others. People from their past or present, and I end up questioning anything. Everyone else has a special quality. Something that makes them-them. Something that makes others attracted to them. Something that makes others fall in love with them. That makes others want to be around them. Maybe my special quality is that I’m not special.

I wish I had it figured it out. Mostly, I still wish I was something I’m not. I wish I were a person who could rock a nose ring, tattoos, and dark lipstick. Instead, my body and face are plain. Just like me always wishing I was something more. I allow the comparison devil creep into my head and continue to make me feel inferior with my plainness. Nothing different. Nothing to stand out with. Time to accept, that I’m nothing special.

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