Some of my friends are happy with the way things are. Average job. Average husband. Average yearly routine. A teeny tiny part of me envies them. They are happy with average. Happy with the present, happy with the future ahead of them.
I don’t envy them because they are happy…I’m happy too…in my own way. I envy them because they don’t feel that pressure. The pressure to be more. The constant pressure you feel when you can’t just be satisfied with the way things are laid out to be. The pressure springing from a place within you that repeatedly chant in your ear, a hollow uncomfortable space within you saying you were not made for
an average future, so stop building on an average future.
But the worst part of feeling that pressure is that you know if you don’t stop ignoring that feeling in your gut, if you just continue with the average, you ARE just average.