So Much Love (yes, i do name blog posts after what comes up on my ipod's shuffle. sheesh.)

I have this full length mirror in my bedroom. It's slightly classy. Maybe someday I'll take a picture of it. 

I have this habit of looking at myself. If a mirror isn't available, I'll use windows, puddles, shiny cars, or your sunglasses. This full length mirror makes looking at myself so much more convenient. 

I'm probably not the right person to have a full length mirror, or any object I can see a reflection in for that matter. Looking at myself has always caused me so much more grief than it should. I remember times when I would end up sobbing, all because my reflection just happened to catch me off guard. 

Lately, though, looking at myself in my mirror has put different kinds of thoughts in my head. Sure, I still see the things I wish didn't exist. That's just not what looking at myself makes me think about. 

I'm really just nothing special. 

My whole life I've been told I was special. Mr. Rogers had me convinced by the age of three. I was the first grandchild, so that automatically made me a big deal. When I could memorize those AWANA books cover to cover in second and third grade, I got super proud of myself. In sixth grade, when I scored at the college reading level, I knew I was special. In high school, when I would compare the person I was to the people my peers were, I had this idea of being miles ahead of them on the maturity scale. And then the big one. I finished high school a whole year early. Woah; I'm so special. 

Not really. 

For the most part, this past year has instilled a good sense of my normal-ness. Really, I'm not as different as I naively used to think I was. That's not to say I've become a conformist. I still think I'm strongly individualistic. 

I'm really just nothing special.

I like knowing that. It's actually very comforting. There's a lot more pressure involved if you're "special." You have to live up to certain expectations. I'm not complacent, though. I don't want to be mediocre in life. The more special I am, though, the better I supposedly am than everyone else. It's kind of complicated to explain, I guess. 

It's not like I'm normal now, so I can fit in. It's not like I all of a sudden have given up on attaining anything worth attaining. It's more of an adequate sense of myself as compared to the universe. It makes me feel small. The good kind of small. 

I'm really just nothing special.

And I wouldn't change that for anything. 

let no one who loves be unhappy. even love unreturned has its rainbow james barrie