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Just an aspiring writer. Not really anything special.
In a college class I had last week, we were asked to do some anonymous evaluations of each other. (Why this is required for engineering, I have no idea...) Anyway, everyone had a really nice one or something like it. I don't know. Something unremarkable. I get to mine, and a quick scan reveals something I've never heard before. "There's something wrong with him! He needs therapy!"
wut
"Why do we keep running?" she asked.
I looked down at her, feeling tears brim up in my eyes. There was no way, at her age, that she could possible know what type of world this really is. To her, it's all just rainbows and sunshine, the Wonderbolts and Princess Celestia.
I couldn't answer her.
I don't even have words.
All my life, I've been so wonderfully mediocre at everything I've pursued. Sports, school, relationships.
Art.
Writing.
It's all been so... bland. Uninteresting. It's been enough to capture the fleeting interests of people as they peruse a wealth of information, but very little beyond that.
It hasn't been enough to make someone stop and think.
My creations aren't inspired or inspiring. They merely exist, taking up space.
Including everything here.