I don’t want to color inside the lines, yet that’s all I know

I+don%27t+want+to+color+inside+the+lines%2C+yet+that%27s+all+I+know

We all just want to be special. 

We want to be known and remembered for something great, but the truth is, none of us are really special. We are all just simply average people—sometimes we’re a little bit amazing, other times, we’re a bit broken—until we prove to not only the world, but also ourselves, that we deserve to be anything more than basic.

It is hard to leave a mark on this world, because in order to truly make it all matter, you have to find a way to be bigger than life itself. It’s like our whole childhood we are told to color in the lines, but as soon as you get older, you’re suddenly supposed to think outside the box, take risks, and color outside the lines. But when all you know is how to follow the rules, where does that leave you in this great big world?

I have this voice in my head—that’s normal, right? It sometimes feels like I am talking to a friend. The voice gives me confidence and shows me all the good parts of my day to day existence, but then, like a classic angel/devil scenario, there is another side to the voice. This side is the one that doesn’t let me be anything less than perfect. 

When all you know is how to follow the rules, where does that leave you in this great big world?”

It’s the voice that keeps me from getting a bad grade on a test. It’s the voice that doesn’t let me do anything bad. It’s the voice that tells me what I should and shouldn’t do in order to be a “good person.”

This is the version of me that forgives people even when they have broken me beyond repair. It keeps me up at night drilling perfection into my brain, as if it’s that easy. 

It used to be easier when I was young—the expectations were non-existent. Nothing mattered. However, now every action counts towards my future. Now it’s more than just a voice, it’s a whole belief system that if you don’t do anything bad then nothing bad can happen to you. 

That’s not realistic and I know it, but my brain tells me to be perfect, and school teaches me to color in the lines. Until suddenly I am an adult, and now, out of nowhere, I have to be creative if I want to be special.

But how can I be special when, my whole life, all I was taught was if you don’t know the answer fill in “C.”