Hero story

Everyone wants the hero story, everyone wants to be entertained by the extraordinary. The amazing, the talented. But in reality, the extraordinary is a lifetime of doing the same thing over and over again. The hero is a person who didn’t ask for glory but was forced onto it through pain and trials.

I keep asking myself, what will be good, what will be entertaining? What story can I tell, that is theatrical and real. I keep striving for the heroes tail, the extraordinary, the amazing. But I am just an ordinary man, with a normal life. All my struggles are internal, not external. All my tribulations are like everyone else’s in this world. So if someone is ordinary, normal what story is there to tell that everyone doesn’t know or hasn’t seen already. It’s a struggle I have constantly when it comes to expressing myself and sharing my creativity. It’s nothing new, its regurgitation. It’s frustrating, to say the least, to come to this realisation.

How can one look in the mirror and show a reflection that is original, when all it is, is a copy. The frustration, this heartache. I wonder if all us creatives feel this? That my work is just a copy of a copy of a copy. My influences are just that, and my eye is like everyone else. I’m sick of the voice of this world about how we are all special, we are all unique, are all worthy and different. I’m finding that my thoughts when I share them are reciprocated. That we are all the villagers, not the hero. We are the supporting character, the quiet one in the background or the comedian with one-liners.

Fuck, I hate my ego and how it wants to be unique, I hate my ego that wants to be different, like my life matters to this world. Fuck ego’s and fuck our culture shoving hero stories down our throats. My experiences are mine and mine alone, but those experiences to a suburban white middle-class man are no different from the rest of us in first world countries. We have no great depression, no great war. Even with this epidemic, we just hide inside and are praised for it.

I’m sorry for the negativity, but I just want to know am I alone in these thoughts and is anyone else sick for the stories we’ve been feed our whole lives. And that being normal, being ordinary is an OK thing to strive for. Being a supporting character in the game called life is a story that is worth being apart of. Because to tell you the truth, I’m still looking for the diamonds in this middle-class life. I guess I can at least say that I’m privileged to have these internal monologue problems. That much is true.

So what’s your story, how do you want to remember your life? What makes you different, unique a hero. Because I can’t find it, not like how the movies portray it anyway. I’m more of a mirror than a movie reel. Fuck where is miss inspiration to sweep me away into ignorance and bliss? What makes a story, is how many people read it and resonate with it, so in a way, the best stories are the ones everyone can relate to. The best stories are about average people. People like you and me. The trick is to find them in ourselves. And share them, share the ordinary. The next question is how should we share them?

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