i am the mundane
i feel so many things
but i spend my days attempting to conceal it
i have wings upon which i am sure i could fly
that i compress under the pressure
of my pathetic, self-inflicted inferiority complex
i am the mundane
i am not the spoken about
nor am i the one occupying any one person's thoughts
i may not be invisible
but i do not linger
the walls surrounding me are closing in and
my stomach rejects any thought of nourishment
my dreams keep shocking me awake but i cannot scream
i have so many stories to tell
but they all seem to pale in comparison
whenever someone else speaks up
i am the average
i am not ugly but i am by no means pretty
(although you would say "no, you're breathtaking" with a warm smile that would melt my frozen heart)
my words are by no definition astounding
but i thrive on them
(however you said once that my words are beautiful and therefore don't deserve to be read by unbeautiful people)
I have no quirks, nothing unique that I can boast about
(i wonder what your argument against that might be)
i stay idle in the same place
for hours on end
(but you give me validation because i am not lazy and i accomplish more than i give myself credit for)
i constantly find myself trapped in this hole
knowing full well that I dug it myself
but now, i can claw myself out
because i am not alone.

I am average (you see me as amazing)
You are incredible (you see yourself as sub-par)
I suppose we are two sides of the same self-loathing coin.