I hate knowing that I can’t excel at everything.
Knowing that i’m so close to touching the moon, but also knowing that there’s one more star i have to jump to, even though im already so comfortable on this one. I hate knowing that when they realize i cant excel at everything, they’ll shake their heads and make me wear the hat of shame. Yea, I know, you thought i was a superhero; and you know what, I did too. But my heat vision doesn’t work anymore. I can’t remember the last time I kept a train from falling. My shield is all scratched up and I am not invincible. I can’t even get a spherical object into a hoop, how am I supposed to save the huge sphere that is the Earth? At least I can spell spherical. And pulchritudinous and excruciating. But how many people say “hey there’s the spelling bee champion from Brockton”? I guarantee that number’s a lot smaller than the amount of people that’d say “hey theres Superman”. Because Superman saves people. I save myself from the heat of embarrassment that comes from messing up.

I hate knowing that I may never be someone. Knowing that the things I want to do won’t make me big enough. The music industry is overflowing right now; just the handful of wannabe rappers and singers and song writers in my school is overwhelming. What if none of us get to the top? How many kids from Brockton get to sing alongside Drake? How many superheroes get to sing alongside Drake? Zero because they’re too busy saving him. Maybe I can just say I’ve retired; cause’ I’m really tired. Tired of the world and its doubters. Nobody doubts Superman, but what’s a little Brockton girl gonna do? I cant get to the top, there are too many heads i’d have to step on, and some people have really big heads. So when 8 don’t show up as famous when they google my name, they’ll shake their heads and make me wear the hat of shame. Because i will have been able to get there. But I won’t because I’m not willing to step on heads, that hurts and I can’t hurt someone just so they can see my name in shining lights.

I hate knowing that none of this is true. Knowing that it doesn’t matter how comfortable i am on this star, cause’ when I get to the moon I won’t remember the prior discomfort. Knowing that they won’t all shake their heads because they can’t do everything either. Knowing that even if I’m not recognized, at least I know I can spell. At least I know I can sing and write; sure there’s someone better than me out there, but does that really matter if they’re not stepping on my head? Knowing that I can sing alongside the radio and it’d feel just as good. Knowing that the world is full of doubters, so I need to be the one who doesn’t doubt.