I’ve had the realization lately,
That people’s lives are like pillows.
Everyone has their own pillow,
And every moment in your life,
Big or small,
Devastating or joyous,
Is a feather.
I want to be known before I die, even though
I logically know that it doesn’t matter,
That oblivion is inevitable.
I still want recognition.
But when I started thinking about this,
That people’s lives are like pillows,
My perspective changed.
It’s not how much you accomplish compared to everyone else.
There’s no graph or table showing you an achievement
That will definitely make your life special.
Because that’s what we all want, right?
Special lives.

It’s scary to think one day maybe we’ll die without making an impact.
But we are.
With every feather, every moment, you are living your life.
And if that’s a life that from the outside
Somewhat resembles everyone else’s,
So what?
Growing up is special.
Getting a job and getting married and having kids
Is exciting!
Normal is only normal because
It’s the most fun.
No one will have a life like yours.
Your pillow will be stuffed with moments that are unique.
So maybe you won’t be famous.
But you will have lived a life that broke your own scale.
You will have lived with excitement and compassion,
Heartbreak and sadness,
Love and joy.
And that will be enough.