and the infinite sadness

I was never really amazing at something. You know, there's always that person you look at and are like, "wow, they can really..." And I do mean your average everyday person. Maybe it's just the things that I wish I could do, that I've attempted, but miserably failed, or only achieved half ass. Like I know people who play the guitar and sing beautifully, I know people who can draw perfectly without any effort, I know people who can play the piano like it's second nature. Granted, I know all these things were learned, although there's a bit of innate talent involved there, talent which I envy (ooh, deadly sin)

Perhaps in my meloncholy, I'm feeling as if I'm mediocre, like I need something new and exciting in my life to inject a little spice, a little excitement. It's probably that the grass just seems greener, but I wont know until I've climbed the fence, and by then, it's just too late to go back. As guess I will continue to search for what drives me, what excites me, but until then, I'll settle for what I've got