I am not eloquent. I am not an artist. I do not have some grand perspective on the universe. I cannot even articulate this very point without having to google the word "articulate" to ensure I spelled it correctly. I have no grand story to tell. I am not special.
"Privileged" is the word most aptly given to me. I was born into my fathers high 6 figure salary. In school I sat next to high end geniuses, kids who were able to attend our prestigious private school by getting 2400s on their SAT. I grew up with minds so powerful they could deconstruct works in seconds. Creativity so vast and unique, that they casually tossed out ideas that I and I am sure many others, would have payed vast sums of money to be seen realized. I was privileged. I encountered new and exciting thoughts and experiences at every turn. Science and math and literature and art mixed and molded themselves together in the cesspool of these teens minds. I watched mostly. Academically I did well enough somewhere in the 3.5 range. Yet I never had that creative fire. That burning passion of knowledge and wisdom that seemed to so easily intertwine in my peers. This was my greatest lesson in humility. I am not amazing. I am not a genius. I am well-enough read, and can speak with relative ease. Yet I will never forge a great epic, nor redefine theatre, nor find the cure for a deadly illness. I have seen the minds that will, and I am meek.
This brings me to you. You spout your mundanities with a passion that sickens me. Your "great works", your stories, your arts-and-crafts-projects fall flat. They are weak. I have no insult to somebody who creates something out of practice, nor who strives to create something beautiful yet fails. Yet it makes me furious that you would claim your work a splendor, all the while your friends chant the tired words of flattery. They are not even gilded compliments! Your friends cheer you forward with an ignorance that's blinding. For all your self-worth and inflated ego, you are closer to me than you will ever be to my classmates. You will never forge an epic or create true art. And what truly sickens me, is that you will be content in that fact. You will ignore this post, and keep producing your self-indulgent mediocrities.