People are meant to be extraordinary, right? Every person plays the main character in their life. In each and every mind, that person is the center of happenings, the center of attention. So why is it that some just creep along on the floor like rodents, never able to get up beyond that little dirty life they’re leading? Why is it that some people are just stuck living their lowlives while others are having the time of their life? Why is life so unfair? Everyone deserves to be extraordinary, everyone deserves to be the star of the show. But it’s hard, so hard. At least it is for people like me,used to being silent, used to hiding in the corner and making themselves small so others can be big. The “underlings”, the hidden support, the ones who silently keep the world from falling apart from all the stupid things the “stars” do. We are nobodies, but we are everything. Without us, they would be nothing. They would be just like us, going unnoticed, as feeble as a feather in the wind, being blown away into nothingness, soiled with ash and dust from the dirty earth they crept from. Is it really meant to be like this? Are some people just meant to be successful and popular while others just fade away, forever forgotten, sinking unnoticed into their early graves? We are breathing, but we are dead. They kill us before we get the chance to live. Once we open our eyes, once we see the world the way it really is, we know we are doomed to disappear, never to be seen again. We know, they know, everybody knows. But no one is doing anything to stop it. Has it always been like this? Are we just animals, the stronger ones killing the weaker ones? But who are the stronger ones really? Is it really them, flashing around their personality and success, smeared with the blood of the silenced ones? Or is it actually us? Because what they don’t realize is that, when it comes to the end, we are the ones still standing. We are the ones defeating the dragon and we are the ones carrying the wounded from the battlefield when the war is over, once again retreating into the shadows, leaving the fame and the glory of the victory to the “brave, fearless warriors” that were barely touched by a passing bullet. No one asks where it is we have gone to. And when they finally find our dead bodies, bled out and covered in dust behind a dumpster in a dark back alley, they will turn around and shake their head over the “poor, unknown casualties” from the war. Maybe someone will look back just once to see a single tear slowly making its way down the ashen, sunken face, leaving behind a silver trail as a reminder of the pain and sorrow we have suffered uncountable times. But soon even that person will move on with their life, never again thinking about the gruesome scene laid out before them that day. Once again, we will be nobody. Once again, we will be gone and forgotten.
