i. am i afraid of it?
i think we all are, in a way:
we get swallowed by mediocrity
and those who are lucky enough
to escape its gaping jaws —
well, good for you.
greatness doesn't belong in all of our bones.
ii. i am afraid of average.
deathly afraid of it;
the fear grips my bones so hard
i can feel the calcium screeching
against one another sometimes, protesting.
being it, breathing it, living it—
they are the one and the same
.... isn't it?
iii. we say okay. alright. fine.
a lot, do you notice?
not great, or awesome, or fantastic, or anything with that kind of energy.
like we've simply
lost the will to live,
content to just survive.
iv. maybe mediocrity was made for us and us for it —
maybe we'll all drown in it and no one will remember me or you or anybody else and we'll become a sea of faces
unintelligible.
v. maybe it's already happening:
the world's grown too big and
we get lost in the enormity
of it being forced to remember
that in the relative perspective of things we are not much
of anything
at all.
⌑ ⌑ ⌑
otherwise entitled:
"what a curse, this sameness"
5.02.16 || kt