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.