Something Special
I might be too young to speak on this with any authority.
I feel old, but I recognize in the grand scheme of life I am not, really, that old.
(however old I may feel)
But I think I have had a revelation.
And that revelation is that it’s ok to not be special.
But let’s define special.
For most of my twenty-four-almost-twenty-five years on this planet, I’ve assumed that I was going to “be” someone. That I was going to be one out of thousands, seen heard or desired by millions, read by the world, stand out rise above the rest — “special.”
I met people who had aspired to greatness, but had settled for…less…and I said “that will never be me.” I assumed that I was different, that there was something about me that would prove stronger, more resilient, better — as if there was such a thing. As if this had anything to do with strength.
I stood out in middle school, led my peers in high school, went to college surrounded by people of the front pages, tonight’s top stories, and in today’s news. They were “special,” and naturally it would follow that I would be too. If not more so.
To the world, you may be one person. But to one person you may be the world.
I was the world to one person. I think. But I didn’t see that.
I was so consumed with making the world see me as special, that I lost the special right in front of my face, and found myself facing the world alone.
Which is when I had this revelation.
That maybe it’s ok, to just be a person.
That maybe it’s ok to just be a person, doing a job that is not the most special, most fulfilling, most coveted job.
That perhaps fulfillment is found more in the moments we share with each other, huddled under blankets and seen across dinner tables and held between cold hands.
That to have someone to go through life with, to hold and be held by, is perhaps more wonderful than the greatest role, the loudest applause, the biggest award.
Isn’t that what Eve realized at the end? After it had been all about her?
That success is not actually about names on billboards or on screens.
That maybe the noblest thing is to bring another soul into the world and help it grow into something beautiful.
Someone who feels special whether in a crowded room or an empty field.
I might be too young to speak on this with any authority.
Perhaps it sounds like I’m saying to give up ambition.
I’m not.
I’m just saying that when you’ve lost what you could not see when you had it
you step back.
I step back.
When the floor is yanked out from under you. You find yourself floating
I find myself floating
above the hours and days that I call my life
And I ask myself
what matters?
