About a month ago some people knocked on my door.
Told me they had to run some mandatory tests that would tell me some mandatory
things
Asked me what I thought I was good at and what I wished I
was better at and what I knew I wasn’t best at
I filled out some forms and I thought it was pretty easy
because I thought I knew what I was good, and ok and not best at.
Turns out the machine knew more than my list of “thought-I-knew”s
Printing... printing... printing...
Barely above average in soccer
Middle of the pack in
school
Normal in looks, decent artist
On point sock game
Good at church
Successful eater
and a big fat, Helvetica font,
RESULTS: YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL
have a good day
At first I was shaken and I probably called my mom.
She
probably told me I’m special and probably told me it’s ok if I’m not, but I am
so don’t worry.
So it’s ok. It’s ok. You’re ok.
And moms are supposed to do that. Supposed to say that.
Supposed to believe that.
But there I was with letters looking back at me and I couldn’t
help but think about them.
Because there’s a lot of soccer players out there.
A lot of
artists and Mormons.
And there’s a lot of blonde, 5’4’’, smile big,
good at
school (sometimes), sock wearing girls out there.
And we can’t all be special.
So I stuck the paper on my desk and stapled it to my heart
till forever.
Some days I held a pity-party for myself.
Handed out a lot of “I’m not specials” just to hear people
tell me I am.
Some days I hid the paper behind my shelf
Put in extra time, running, working, studying, prepping,
cleaning, being.
Convinced that the next time the machine came around I’d
score 5 stars, a 4.0.
A YOU’RE SPECIAL
But turns out emotions are circles and our hearts are
downhill and that circle is really good at rolling
Really good at making the last month a rollercoaster of I’m
oks and I’ll prove them wrongs and I’m specials and why am I tryings
Because I want to stop rolling
Because I’m getting dizzy
Because I’m getting lost
Cuz I was always the soccer player
The senior class vice president
The smart one
The smiley one
The one who was going to Washington to do something great
And now the only one I am is a one percent.
A slice of a city that never sleeps
And I’ve been thinking a lot about that paper all day today
and I think I need to do something soon.
So tonight is different. Because I’m telling the paper I
understand. Telling it I know I’m not special.
Not the best at anything.
That that’s ok because tonight I remembered that’s not what
life’s about.
I remembered the way I look at people around me. Listening
to what they’re saying and hoping and thinking. Not asking for their paper or
test results.
Remembered that the people that mean the most to me aren’t
the best at anything either. They’re all just a bunch of average, normal, middle
of the packers who mean more than the world to me.
Who are really really special to me.
Tonight I realized for the first time the words on the paper
were written in pencil
Decided to pull out my eraser and stop focusing on that word
SPECIAL and the YOU ARE NOT before it
Decided to replace it with a list of the people that have
told me they love me and told me they believed in me
Decided to stop living life for a better test score
And just start living
BP