Excellent
February 23, 2017
I was never excellent. No, excellent was Emily from sophomore English who could recite Shakespearean monologues on a whim, or 6 foot Riley, captain of the volleyball team whose wingspan and vertical surpassed every girl on the court. They were my excellents. We all have them. The coveted few who have somehow managed to master the ropes of success and exceed all of our expectations though we paradoxically expect them to.
I was never an excellent. I
held steadfast onto that mindset, clinging to it like a security blanket. I
became complacent in the fact that certain ambitions were not fit for me. They
were for the excellents to achieve. Instead, I stayed put on the outskirts of
the spotlight where I felt safe, felt secure, felt darn right comfy in my
blanket that assured me that this was
my place. This was my full potential.
I did it.
But then I’d look at center
stage, and there stood the excellents. All shiny and bright, the light
reflecting perfectly off of them while I stood in their shadows. I guess deep
down a part of me wanted to be excellent. I mean, who doesn't? No one really knows why the heck we're here, but
we're here right? And we have this need, this
itching almost, to be in the spotlight, to be acknowledged, to make a
difference, or whatever other variation of excellent there is.
See, the definition of ‘excellent’ (pulled from Dictionary.com) is as follows:
Excellent (adj.) possessing outstanding quality or superior merit; remarkably good
I kid you not. The definition is actually that riddled with subjectivity, which does dangerous things to people like me. My blanket of security took the subjectivity out of it for me. Emily from sophomore English and Riley the volleyball beast—they are excellents. Excellent became an identity I could never become. I didn’t allow myself to.
I had clung onto the blanket so hard that I couldn't take it off. Even in moments when I excelled, I was still not an
excellent. I
had trained myself to tease the ring of light that standing in the center
became foreign territory. I rejected it and sought refuge in the shadows.
It took me way too long to
realize that the blanket didn’t secure me, it stifled me. So I am trying to let
go of it. I’m attempting to realize that I am my own excellent, and that maybe
my excellents have their own excellents. Heck, maybe I am even someone else’s excellent. It’s not cozy and it’s not comfortable. It’s
quite the opposite really, but when that spotlight hits now, it’s satiating, it’s remarkably good. It’s…well, it’s
excellent.
0 comments