Ordinary.

Sometimes on a Wednesday

you feel particularly ordinary.

You feel like

you're not especially good

at anything.

You wonder why
people laugh at your jokes.

And why people have missed you
when you haven't seen them
in a few days.

You're not sure,
but you have the feeling
that you probably talk too loud.

You feel a weight
in the air
right around the physical space
that you take up.

.
.
.
Then you realize
that you feel ordinary
because you're scared.
.
.
.
The first day of kindergarten
was the worst day of your life.

Because the minute you smiled at
the girl next to you in line
and said,
"Do you want to be friends?"
you were a goner.

The minute you made a friend
is the same minute
that you made
your five-year-old self
vulnerable
to someone else.

Sure.
It seemed like a good idea
at the time.

But what if
she decides
that she doesn't want
to be friends anymore?

What if she decides
there's a friend
that she likes better?

Actually,
you've been in grave danger
since you were five.

So some days
you tell yourself you're ordinary.

That way,
if your friend says,
"I don't want to be
your friend anymore.
You're ordinary," 

you can say,
"I know."