The weight of this cheap plastic trophy, likely ordered from a place where thousands of identical cheap plastic trophies are created and distributed, weighs in my hands as though it was not truly there at all. As though it’s only really exists if you look at it and acknowledge it. This trophy holds no weight. My award holds no weight.
Don’t get me wrong, guys, I appreciate being awarded “World’s Most Average Person,” I think I had it coming…but I’ll admit it’s a depressing, empty title to accept.
As a child, I was the smartest. I read the most books. I was the asshole other kids kind of couldn’t stand, and the angel teachers loved to slap stickers on. I was motivated to help out in the Library, create my own drawing lessons business, and read every book I could get my grubby little fingers on. I was the smart kid.
I was also the fat kid. I played Gameboy instead of kicking a ball around at recess. I had a couple friends, but they were kind of like me. They validated my personality, and I didn’t know this wasn’t the way I should be. My parents never encouraged me to do much beyond get straight A’s and behave. I never learned to play the piano. I never joined any clubs. I was the smartest, but I see now how relatively useless this was.
Well, years go by. I’m still smart in middle school, high school…I still retain my hard wit and dark humor. But my motivation evaporates. I no longer care about reading. I couldn’t care less about what my teachers thought of me. I didn’t have any interests, any hobbies. I had my best friend, and that’s all I wanted. I wanted to live my life. I didn’t get a job, or an internship. I went to the movies, and slid by in class. Homework was a joke. Apart from the evils of mathematics, I could hardly pay attention and ace most of my tests. School has never been hard. Then again, everything is standardized these days. If you’re a good test taker, like me, then you’re golden. But as I graduate from college, I’m realizing that the way I’ve skated by, acing everything, was the worst thing I could possibly do for myself.
I don’t remember shit. I have so skills, I have no talents, I have no drive. The one thing I feel relatively good at is written and verbal communication. Great skills to have, but not without motivation. I almost never write unless I’ve been assigned something. Some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever written were college essays for classes that had nothing to do with writing. I bottle up my talent for lack of creativity and lack of motivation to plug said talent into an outlet, and coming out of school, I long once more for the graded essay. I feel as though I’ll never write again if I don’t get a grade.
I am average. I am the most average person in the world. Thank you for this award. I truly deserve it. I will sit at this desk, under these fluorescent lights, working in a field I could not give less of a fuck about, licking envelopes and getting migraines. I feel stupid. I feel like I can’t learn anymore.
Maybe I need someone to physically threaten me in order to light a fire under my ass. Is that really what it takes these days? Is it just me, or is this my generation? I see people my age, with college degrees, not even trying to find work in the field they want to work in. They’re resigned to dish washing and clerical work. 8 bucks an hour. Forever.
Average is no way to live. It’s no way to breathe. But thanks for the award anyway…I’ll mount it right next to my diploma.