I don’t know why, but I felt especially frustrated today. I feel stupid, I feel fat, I feel ugly, I feel average. The worst is the feeling of being average, or worse still, of being less than average. I feel like I’m not keeping up with everyone around me. Everyone else is smarter, prettier, thinner, better. I feel like I can’t compete, that I’m not even on the same wavelength as everyone else. I’m just at the bottom of the pit, just muck and rotten moss and absolutely inconsequential.
I’ve always thought I’d be/do something great one day. That my life wasn’t limited to the 9 to 5 office lifestyle that both my parents were trapped in. I was eager to break out of my dull and dreary life, and I was so convinced that I could do it. But I haven’t felt like that in years. I noticed how painfully average I am, and it really hurts to think that I am destined to be nothing more.
I used to dream of becoming a ballerina. I worked harder than anyone else in class. I skipped grades, but suffered because none of the girls liked me. But still I persevere. The principal of my ballet academy suggested to my mum to send me overseas, but back then, we were still struggling to pay off the mortgage for our house. It was a few years later when both my parents got promoted at work that we’re living the comfortable lifestyle we’re in right now. I really thought I had a future in ballet. My teachers told me I was their most hardworking student. But back then, I didn’t realise that ‘hardworking’ didn’t necessarily mean ‘talented’. I learnt the hard way that life is unfair. When puberty hit and I gained weight, too much for an aspiring ballerina, my teacher took me aside and said, “You’re the most hardworking student in class, but you’re not the best. Ballet is cruel. If you don’t have the right body shape, you can’t survive.” And I knew, from that moment on, that no matter how hard I worked, I would never be the ‘right’ shape. My closest friend in class was the one with the ideal body shape, but she was one of the laziest. I used to be resentful of her, and sometimes, I still feel that way.
Fast forward to a few years later, and I discovered my love for writing. Writing makes me feel at ease with myself, just like the way I felt when I danced. My passion for writing consumed me the same way ballet used to. There were days when I was contented to stay alone in my room, doing nothing but write, write, write. I used to write fanfiction (I used to be obsessed with Harry Potter) and submit them online and I would receive flattering comments. Then I attended a creative writing workshop and everyone seemed to enjoy my stories. The tutor even asked me to read my story aloud in front of strangers at the very last day of the workshop, when students from all the other creative writing workshops gathered together at a party. I knew I was a long way ahead of becoming a published author, but I was convinced it was not an implausible idea. Then somehow, my inspiration seemed to dry out, and I felt everything I wrote was rubbish. Yet another dream goes down the drain.
I never really realized how fearful I was of being average. It scares me to know that my life would just be another unnoticed blimp in history. I would never have had an impact on anyone’s life. I would never have had an impact on mine. Maybe that’s why I want to get a job where I can interact with people, where I can help them and contribute back to the community. I feel as if that’s my life’s mission, to help others and to have an impact on others. It may sound selfish, but I don’t want to be forgotten. I want to be remembered, even if it’s only for making a patient smile. I want to change people’s lives, and to change mine. But how can I do that if I’m only average, if I’m lower than average?
I feel as if every step I take can change the future. So any mistake I make now, even a minor one, can affect how my future outcome is. And maybe it’s a bit too late to realize this. If only I studied harder, if only I worked harder, if only if only. I feel like my whole life’s at stake here, and I have already unwillingly spun the wheel that would determine my fate. Round and round it goes, where it stops, nobody knows.
