*sighs*

A couple of days ago, krysis_ and I were talking, and I brought up the term ‘meta’. She asked what that was, because I had used it in conjunction with her journal. The only answer I could come up with was “ ‘meta’ is not me…” And then I pointed her over to reenka as a prime example. Because while reenka is more fandom meta, and krysis_ more of a personal meta, that’s what they are. And they’re wonderful at it.

But I’m not.

I guess it comes as a moment for everyone to think about, really, his or her worth. But it’s an especially bitter pill for me to swallow. I’m nothing special. I am nothing unique.

I don’t explore things as widely as reenka, I’m not as poetic as dark_soul_lost. I’m not as introspective as krysis_. I’m not as much of a procrastinator as cblm, and I’m not as outrageous as nonewwitticisms, or elite_stoat. I’m not as thoughtful as ishuca. I don’t live life as fully as scheherezhad. I feel like I’m just a bunch of stuff thrown in together, like a garbage can or something, of half finished talents that the higher powers found too brittle for actually talented people. I can sing, but I’m only decent, not good. I’m all right at drama, but I don’t think I’d ever win an Oscar. And I can play an instrument, but I’m neither the best nor the worst. I don’t stand out.

So what am I? A mass of lesser degrees? Almost-there-but-not-quite?

I feel… inadequate.

I’m just another face in the crowd after all.

I guess I feel like I should be prouder of my accomplishments (what accomplishments?) but I’m not. I merely parrot; I am an echo of things that have already been achieved, and my attempts at mimicry are so shoddy as to be unrecognizable of the originals.

My uncle once said that I shouldn’t write because I was too intelligent-that the things I write go over people’s heads… that no one will be able to understand what I’m trying to say.

Where is this vaunted intelligence? Obviously, it skipped town and left a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door when I got academic suspension.

I think that maybe he was right, for all of the wrong reasons.

I know there are those who will fight with me, to negate everything I’ve said. They will tell me that I amsomeone important, that I’m me, not just another face in the crowd to them, and that everyone feels like this and I am not alone.

But I just… wish… that I could feel like I was worth something.

. . .

Hello.

I’m moriavis, the girl who was never enough.

Pleased to meet you all.