When I was young, not yet prone to negativity
I thought I was interesting, charismatic, witty
I had audacious plans, I thought I could
Be anyone I wanted to be, I fancied I would
Travel the world and have a life storied
The life of a multifaceted maverick I would lead..
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Maybe I was delusional, maybe it was the influence
Of the books I had read, but I had a desire intense
To be extraordinary, be unique, and unconventional
Learning about varied topics was a habit intentional
I wanted to be someone with an opinion to express
On any topic being discussed, leave people impressed…
What is striking to me now in my non-delusional state
How overconfident I was, how highly myself I did rate!
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Somewhere along the way, I had the painful realization
That I was squarely ordinary, and the bloated estimation
Of my abilities was completely off the mark
I was a boring introvert- that was the reality stark
With limitations on both experiences and skill
My dreams were giant shoes the real me could not fill
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I lead a perfectly ordinary, mundane life indeed
I adventure vicariously through characters in books I read
I rarely say anything that can remotely be perceived
As interesting or intriguing, but I am relieved
To know that I do not have to try hard to maintain
An interesting persona, I can be boring and plain
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Somewhere, though, in a corner of my mind
Is the hope that one day I would find
Myself involved in an extraordinary situation
In which my exceptional skills I would have to summon…
Passion...unbridled 