I'm such a whiny brat, thinking I'm special.
I'm not, not at all. I'm of average adult intelligence, I probably act like most people, and I don't truly excel at anything.
It really hurts to think that, though. I've always wanted to be a special snowflake, the misunderstood one, the one that you can't possible fit in a box. The girl that is just something else. No, I'm pretty run of the mill. Don't catch many people's eye.
I've been influenced by all my favorite books. The books where the protagonist is told they are special, and are whisked off to a magical world where they learn to become better, cooler than everyone else. Unique people with hidden talents, hidden power.
The ones that always find true love without really looking. They find their soulmate in someone they save the world with, their best friend, partner in crime.
These people in my stories are magical, have powers. They aren't like normal people. They can do things others can't. They are special, and everyone knows it.
I've always wanted that. So badly. But maybe the sooner I accept the truth that everyone is unique in their own way, and not just me, the sooner I can be at peace.
