Settling

You are in your teens when the change starts. You have always been a great student, a good friend, an up-and-coming star. But suddenly your accomplishments begin to mean nothing and you start to fade away. You begin to blend in with everyone else. You imagine what you look like to others. The outline of your silhouette is starting to become fuzzy and mix in with the colors around it, just like the shots of characters in an old movie. You begin to slip into the background of life, and this does not bother you. You have always wanted to be normal, not spectacular or exemplary, just average. You have desired to be like the rest of the populous. This is your wish.

You have always known all the answers in school. You have been at the head of class and the best in all your subjects. The teachers have looked to you when none of the other students could find the answer to a hard question. Now, they pose a tough query in class, and the reaction they receive is a sea of blank faces staring down, praying not to be called on. The teacher’s eyes meet yours and you can tell they are begging you to answer the question. You know the solution, and they know you know it. You refuse to be noticed by your classmates or show your superiority to them. You do not budge.

As the time passes, your teachers seem to have forgotten that you were ever an above average student, because you have become a proficient one. Your friends begin to forget that they ever shared inside jokes with you or deep conversations. If you were to raise your hand in class, the teacher wouldn’t even realize you were there. You have become fake. You have no tangible emotions or feelings. But that is okay with you. You find that it is okay with most people as well.

You leave your school and take the next year to “find yourself.” But you don’t need this year, you already know who you are. You are normal, average, conventional. You are the American Dream. You have this title, you realize, because in your life, you have refused to have any.

You are not considered beautiful or handsome. But, on the other hand, there is nothing remotely ugly about you. None of your features are original or extraordinary; your face is forgettable. You are not hated by anyone or loved by any. You are just accepted. You are what you need to be at the time when it is deemed necessary for you to be that way. When someone smiles at you, you return the gesture. You are polite and friendly and passive. You reciprocate but do not give of yourself. You are normal.

One day, you meet someone. You decide that you will live together and that you will engage in wedlock. You will not form connections with them, they are merely for show. They do not matter to you, they are there so that others will think that you are conventional. Having a partner is nothing more to you than the next cohesive step in an ordinary life.

As time passes, you realize that you should rear children. So you do. You have a certain number of children, enough to seem normal. But they mean little to you, and your spouse does all of the parenting. Those children will grow to think of you only as their biological parent, you will have no ties with them other than that. You will not share feelings or disclose yourself to them. When they grow up, one of them will pick a fight with you and they will try to offend you by saying that your life has been meaningless. You will reply that most lives are.

You have an average job. It is one that is beneath your abilities, but then again, you need normalcy. This job is simple and you could quickly raise your rank if you wished, but you do not. Your co-workers know your name and your face, but they know little more than that. You keep pictures and mementos of your children and spouse on your desk as trophies, but you do not look at them, they are for others to see. Whenever one of your colleagues passes you, you speak to each other with civility. Your conversations are cliché. If they were to ask you how you were, you would reply that you were great. Any other answer might suggest that something was wrong and would require who you were speaking to further the conversation by asking you what was the matter. You know that this is a hassle to the other person. You have realized that there are few people in the world who truthfully care about others and their feelings. You can bet that your co-workers are not these people.

You remember a saying. You are not sure where it is from, perhaps it was in a song once. The urge to remember its origin does not overwhelm you. The saying is, “it is better to burn out than to fade away.” At one time you remember that you thought this was true. But then you think, it is much easier to fade away.

One day, you die. It is an ordinary day, perhaps a Wednesday or a Monday. Your death is uneventful and your obituary is placed in the newspaper the following day. It is general and without emotion from those who wrote it. Your funeral is small and most of those who are informed about the ceremony do not attend. When talking about your death, people give the standard response about how they are sorry to hear about your passing and that you were a good person. They do not really care about you or your life, but they must give this response because it is required of them in the presence of others.

You open your eyes. They are brown, or green, or blue. You are not preoccupied with that detail. You find that you are sitting in a room and all is silent. You are young. Deep inside you, you hear the calm and calculated thud of your heart, the one constant in your life. You realize that you have been day dreaming. Perhaps, you think, you have just witnessed the possible outcome of your own life. It is one of settling and not living to your full potential. But it is also one of ease. You might just lie back and allow the world to bring that life to reality. But then again, you think, you might not.