But who the hell are you to judge me? Who are you really? Are you any better than me? I don’t think you are, maybe in your mind; there you can sit and look down on me. But in real life, are you above me, or just sitting beside me, happening to be just an inch taller?
Fate gave us different lives, opportunities and possibilities. And I agree that mine were better than yours. And I understand that you want me to be the best I can be. But what if this is me, all of me, all that I will ever be. Would you still love me, or keep looking down on me?
I will never be you. I can’t and most all, I don’t want to be. I like myself, just the way I am. You can call me average, typical, common, regular, standard. And I know that I will never be the hero in anyone’s story, or save the world. It’s not who I am. I will never be the film star, but remain the stand in. I will never be able to climb up to reach your pedestal. I’m fine with that; I’m fine with being me, being ordinary. But why can you be?