“Have all the thoughts been thought?” I say as I walk past by the corner of my building. The poinsettia flowers were almost out of season this time of year. In front of me I could see the green houses that surrounded us. A small garden of red and blue assorted flowers filled the brim of the building. The green houses were about the size of a small house with a wooden entrance that you could slide open or closed. With the chips and dents the door was crying to whomever it may concern that if they dare close them it would be the last time. They were open. I could see the seeds and stems that we’re growing within each potted plant for the coming months. There were rows of them without an end in sight. A truck in the distance can be heard with its constant whirring and gravel like sound it makes when the dirt filled tires meet the floor. The sky was as blue as it could be with wispy clouds blanketing them in the background. It was calm. I stepped out on the gravel rocks around me. With their cracking and crinkling whispers, ever so slowly a thought occurred to me. Am I original? What does that even mean? Am I somebody that someone wished they could be? Or are all these thoughts already been thought? I don’t know what I don’t know I suppose as I kicked a few pieces of rocks around. A gust filled the narrow aisles and with the sudden dust it forced me to look up. With my hands in my pocked I sighed and forced a smile. It’s a beautiful day.

I can’t write the best songs. I’ll never be a famous actor. I’ll never save someone with an act of true heroism. I won’t be in the Olympics for as long as I live. I’m too short, and too old and far too slow. At the time I’m 26…what can I really do? I’m young enough to start my life but old enough to know I can only be second best. I’ll never be a concert violinist like the dreams I used to have. I’ll just be me. “I’ll just be me”, I whispered as I reached into pocket for my phone to see the time. It was 1pm. My lunch break was over and in my peripheral I could see my coworker had a question to ask me. She waved her hands with the countenance of one who’s worried.

As I gesture to reassure her I’m on my way another thought occurred. Then again…they’re also just them. They also write the best songs. They’re famous and they save lives every day. Why can’t I? Maybe…. this is why you should walk outside more often, I thought as I clocked in.  As I glance outside one last time I had another thought. I never would have imagined a flower could look so stunning even when it’s wilting.

 

 

 

 

via Daily Prompt: Missing

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