There are 7,075,051,380 people in the world and right now,
I feel so small,
So tiny that everyone else is up high upon pedestals
And I am sinking far below.
Every single problem, every worry, seems incompetent to the world outside my windows.
7,075,051,380 people have their own worries
And I am only one of them.
One person, just a number,
A number scribbled hastily on a page, bodily stamped on my forehead, marking my mere existence.
I’m just one, surrounded by a sea of others, engulfed by the tidal waves that swallow me whole.
I am only one person, one girl, who seems to saturate in her own troubles while the rest of the world is pounding at my door, waiting to run me over,
I’m a mark on a page, a check on a list, I am a number,
And hardly a name.
There are trillions, breaking down my guarded walls,
Threatening to spit me out into the world, shape me into their mold
And will continue on to the next
There are 7,075,051,380 people in the world
I’ll try climbing high above that pedestal
And will become
More than just
A number.