“Nothing special at all “

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You wouldn’t take two looks at yourself if you, see you, on the street. There’s nothing special about you, nothing at all-you’re more ordinary than the most ordinary thing you own and as painfully common, as blue jeans in a closet, or a tear-stained pillow case at night. Don’t fret now, because you spent your entire life trying to become like everyone else, or someone else, or at least, something for someone else and thus, alas, congratulations, you’ve succeeded in it.  Now, don’t deny that, because I know, and you know,  you wouldn’t dare to ever laugh out loud at a funeral , not because you find nothing funny or that you are so plagued, by sadness, but because, and simply because, no one else does. You are just like everyone else, as common as water, and as natural and ordinary as waves in the sea. Accept that you are nothing exceptional, and accept, that there is nothing wrong about it. Accept the fact that you are nothing different and that that doesn’t mean you’re not gloriously wonderful.

Water, is everywhere. That doesn’t make every ocean, and every sea, any less breathtaking.

I know you have felt void, in your life, in your heart. I know, you’ve felt explosion, collapse, birth and death, glow and dim ,nothing, everything, in your life and in your heart and wondered in some moment, if you are the void, or the tremors you feel, after all. Look up at the sky some clear summer’s night and try count the pinpricks of the countless stars that shine. Each stellar ball burning so bright, with so much inside, but there are so, so many that it becomes plain ordinary. And all of those pieces of cosmic brilliance existing, suspended, in stark emptiness:  the sky, outer space, is, like your heart, only a void after all.

You are a star, everyone is a star, and it is ordinary for you to feel all the burns and the glow because everyone else does, too.

Now, do you see how the common is brilliant, too?

You are, like everyone, strong enough to take on all that comes crashing upon you in your lifetime, like waves upon a shore. You can plunge into the darkest depths, swim through the mightiest waves, and explore all that there is and emerge, maybe some broken, but more often than not, wiser and alive. But what I see and what I know is that you, like so many, have these, certain crevices, that you do not wish to swim through anymore. Places, where it’s just a little too dark, a little too cold, and where the waves are a little too strong for your liking; certain ‘dead zones’ that were once, so alive. Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to plunge into these places, no, for I want to see you live to dive in another day. What I want is for you to know, and remember. Remember, that everyone has arms and minds strong enough to cross the stormiest of seas, they have, more strength, than entire oceans within them and have parts of their lives darker that the ocean’s greatest depths.

So, be wary.

Be kind.

Time may sometime turn vicious. The world may someday turn into a cold, windy and inhospitable desert, so bleak, that you have no desire of wanting to conquer it. It may seem barren and even be barren, so vast and large and dry that the mere thought, of having to survive in it makes you tired, and a deep, dark slumber seem so, so welcome. But then, you can, and everyone can, brave the chilly winds and survive long enough in the dark for the splendid lights at the end; lights, that are much more powerful than any darkness ever was.

Strive. There is life enough. There is reason enough.

 

You are like everyone else as everyone else is like you. You are to everyone and yet to none and that, my friend, is your fortune and that, your tragedy. People will use you – laugh with you, cry with you, feel for you, but still use you- as you too will, inevitably, use others. You, like all others, will be like you always were, but with scars and blemishes that time, and man, paint you with. It will be alright. It will be, still bearable, still tolerable, as long as you are free.  The stormiest and windiest days, the most empty of space in nothing before your might, and the might of your soul, as long as it has no shackles of any kind. As long as you can fill your lungs with as much air as you want to, even if it’s poison you want to inhale; as long as you can shoot up in space when you want to, if only to burst, into flames.

As long as you can dive into the stormiest of seas, even if, only to drown to its floor and become feed for some creature of the dark, or to lie dead in some sunken, forgotten ship’s wreckage.

As long as you are the only one who can claim yourself, you are common, global and universal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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