Just ordinary

I’m ordinary. I’m Very very ordinary. I’m not unique, or different. You’ll find the likes of me all over the world. I’m freakishly ordinary. I’m horribly predictable, fairly typical, occasionally boring. I wake up late on average days, Rush to work, or class, stay be late at night over thinking, over analysing, wondering how can I leave my mark on this planet, How can I be remembered, How can I ever be the person I so desperately want to be, I imagine oh-so-almost perfect scenarios in my head, I keep editing them, over and over again till they are almost perfect. Till they are fairly typical, Freakishly ordinary. I plan what to do the next day, but I wake up too late, my work is sill sloppy, random people still on my mind so on and so forth.

I’ve never done anything unusual, my peers have. I don’t play any instrument, don’t speak on stage, don’t know any languages, read and reread books in frequently, listen to a lot of not-so-popular music, dream more than it’s healthy and do nothing to make those dreams come true.

 

and now I’m not going to write what I wanted to because I’m busy dreaming up the perfect dream.