Mediocre

Sometimes I read the words of others, and get sad that I cannot express my thoughts as well as they can. Sometimes I look at other people's art and regret that I do not have the talent to reproduce what I see in a version that is me. Sometimes I hear poeple's voices and beautiful sounds they make and I am disappointed that my voice can only hold for a short time before it cracks. Sometimes, I get jealous of others. I really dislike the feeling and know that it is really a wasted feeling. Time spent wanting things that others have is just sensless. Yet I cannot stop myself and that begins to frustrate me even more. Why can I not find my voice, my pen, my canvas? The answer is in front of me. I am too busy searching through others instead of searching for my own. I guess at least I have reached a point where I recognize this in myself and hope it counts for something. Maybe it is a small step towards finding what I am about.

Maybe I am just mediocre.