From the moment we are borne into the light we develop a sense of our surroundings, and through this we form a personal knowledge. As a child, with an innocent but truthful eye, we thought nothing of worry, of insecurity, and of fear; there was only beauty and no reason to suspect.
Yet as we age, there emerges a reality we did not believe yet existed. So frightfully clear it startles us. All around you witness lies and hypocrisy, finding an inability to separate truth from illusion. Then doubt, suspicion, and trepidation arise. To grow is to lose the rose-tinted spectacles, the lace veil, the hand that guides us.
It is in this belief I have lived my teenage years; in this state of mind that I have carried myself and my obligations accordingly. For in our generation of pretense there is need not of innocence and sweetness, only of rigidity and the will to continue on in this never-ending race.
But what use was all this self-discipline to me when all I ever really sought was excellence. I had forgotten that to be truly excellent one must put honor first; was blinded by the pretense I had hid within and myself veiled from the true end of my goals — I had become a machine, a yes-woman, an object with a power-button that could be dispensed with at will. I had become the best play-actor on the stage that is cruel society.
I had my great days, days when never was I wrong and to all the audience I was the biggest star; I have had the lowest days — times when shadowed were my eyes and I so forcefully brought back down to reality to witness the wrong I have put in motion. These are my memories, and yet these are not the moments which define me, for that which defines us is the middle-line — the gray lining so to speak. For it is in this line where we spend most of our time, idly passing, hardly ever seeing.
So where am I?
I am at this middle. I have tasted enough of ecstasy that gray tastes of ground.
At this moment, I am mediocre.