They ask me,
with placating smiles,
and expectant eyes,
"What are your plans for the future?"

When I say, "I don't know,"
their eyes dim,
and their smiles turn to brittle plastic.
"You're 15. You should know."

Know what?
Know what I'm going to do
for the rest of my life?
Know every detail of my future?!

Some have it easier.
With gifts and talents people call
"special".
They KNOW where they're going.

Me? I'm not special.
Special, perhaps in the way,
that I excel at nothing.
Merely average at everything.

Because I am the master of nothing,
the Jack of all trades.
Whatever I do,
Someone can do better.

Yes, I am smart,
but I know at least two people,
and they are smarter.
For I am the jack of all trades.

I can sing, passingly,
cracking slightly on the high notes.
But my friends in the choir have,
the voices of angels.

I don't even try for sports.
I fall at the slightest of things.
With my two left feet,
tangled. In one another.

Relationships are difficult.
Hard to untangle, reasons and answers,
and here I am, asking why?
Because people don't make much sense.

So I stay out of things,
watch warily,
breathe carefully.
Just in case.

In case of a day,
when I meet the one,
who will tell me.
"YOU are special."