It's so easy to get caught up in the fantastical fantasy of fictional worlds. I can imagine myself as a demigod completing quests, a Shadowhunter killing demons, or a witch or wizard vanquishing the Dark Arts. It's a wonderful little escape, a whole 'nother universe inside my brain, waiting for me at all times to drift to. To be honest, they're almost simply another facet of reality, with the level of absorption that I typically experience.
Eventually I realize that I am not the main character. I am not even one of the pieces of collateral damage. I'm of the population that doesn't even get a specific mention, part of the collective "not specials."
I am not a demigod. I am not a Shadowhunter. I am not a witch.
I am a mere mortal. A Mundane. A Muggle.
And it's horrible.
To be boring is to be mundane and uninteresting – humdrum, dull, boring, tedious, monotonous, tiresome, wearisome, unexciting, uneventful, unvarying, repetitive, repetitious, routine, ordinary, everyday, day-to-day, commonplace – or any other unremarkable word.
There was a time when I felt so awkward, so weird, so unfitting, that my dearest wish in the world was to be normal and fit in. Now, I wish for the opposite, to be unabashedly myself and stand out amongst the crowd, as someone recognizable with particular interests and quirks. Instead, all I am left with is this horrible boringness.
I suppose everyone is unique, but I don't have a unique unique-ness. I have your standard, run-of-the-mill uniqueness. People as unique as I am are one in a million, meaning there are at least eight thousand people like me in this world. More than enough to fill the entire underclassmen population of a prestigious private university. It's not enough to be this unique.
At least, this is how I experience it. I suppose I'm just used to it. However, that doesn't stop me from simply feeling deeply unsatisfied with who I am as a person right now. It's not all bad, because life is about continual self improvement and whatnot; it's just the way it is. But perhaps I can view it as a fresh clean empty slate to start anew upon. I can decide who I am or want to be, and continuously work towards that idea. I want to start doing more things. It's just a question of what and how. And that's where I'm stuck. ◊
To be boring is to be mundane and uninteresting – humdrum, dull, boring, tedious, monotonous, tiresome, wearisome, unexciting, uneventful, unvarying, repetitive, repetitious, routine, ordinary, everyday, day-to-day, commonplace – or any other unremarkable word.
There was a time when I felt so awkward, so weird, so unfitting, that my dearest wish in the world was to be normal and fit in. Now, I wish for the opposite, to be unabashedly myself and stand out amongst the crowd, as someone recognizable with particular interests and quirks. Instead, all I am left with is this horrible boringness.
I suppose everyone is unique, but I don't have a unique unique-ness. I have your standard, run-of-the-mill uniqueness. People as unique as I am are one in a million, meaning there are at least eight thousand people like me in this world. More than enough to fill the entire underclassmen population of a prestigious private university. It's not enough to be this unique.
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