I'm not witty. I'm not pretty. I'm not creative. I'm not imaginative. I'm not clever. I'm certainly not a great cook. I'm not so many things, that I forgot what I am. I've willfully chosen a life of 70% and now it haunts me. I could have been so many things, but I am only one thing. My dreams are fleeting, my joys are conditional, my success can be easily forgotten and I have no talent to be proud of.
When I look back, I only see small conquests. Yes, I directed a play. And yes, I dabbled with branches of psychology. I sang a bit, I danced a bit, I wrote a bit and I drew a bit. I played basketball, tennis, table tennis, squash, swam, baseball, throw ball and whatnots. But I never really stuck with them. My success is a 'could-have-been' and my stories petty. My skills, ephemeral.
I'm a nothing.
When I look back, I only see small conquests. Yes, I directed a play. And yes, I dabbled with branches of psychology. I sang a bit, I danced a bit, I wrote a bit and I drew a bit. I played basketball, tennis, table tennis, squash, swam, baseball, throw ball and whatnots. But I never really stuck with them. My success is a 'could-have-been' and my stories petty. My skills, ephemeral.
I'm a nothing.
