Don't be upset. No one really is. Not all the time, anyway.
Can you imagine being the one at all times. That would be exhausting, both to be and to be around.
If I were the one, and found out someone had been waiting all this time for me, I'd be embarrassed to say the least.
And sad. And tired. But most of all, I'd just want to sit at home not being the one for five goddamn minutes. Developing tastes and faults outside of whatever oppressive destiny loomed over each one of my one shoulders.
Look at that person. The one biking in the rain without a helmet! Bold move not me. I can pull that shit, being an overused plot device - especially in young adult fiction - but your just you.
You with your distinct you-ness. Not a chosen destined one. Not today. Not now. Not like me- Oh goddammit! Not another harrowing incident requiring a hero to rise. I JUST WANT TO NOT BE THE ONE FOR ONE FREAKING MINUTE!!!!
... I've taken this to a ridiculous enough conclusion.
Before you were biking home in the rain, without a helmet on - sorry mom - you sat across from or stood beside or were just on the phone with someone who needed something.
They weren't necessarily asking you for it. You sensed a need and felt a compulsion to help. So in that moment you wanted so desperately to be ... well y'know.
Sometimes being me is wanting to be more than I am, or more than I have ...
Sometimes being me is failing to do either.
Sometimes being me is being okay with that.
Today I am not the one.
But there is one in me. Till then, I'm just me.
Scratch that: till then, I'm
And who knows, they may be the one and not know it. Wouldn't that be grand, if we could all be our own one.
At least when it really counts.
... boring book material, but I'm not writing life. Just trying to live it.
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