Well, I thought I was special.
Precariously near the edge of
“The One and Only.”
I even dared hope that, one day,
I’d be considered Genius,
Nobel Prize Honoree,
Definite addition to the Hall of Fame.
Then slowly, but surely,
I realized that
Compared to her,
To him,
To them,
I was just another,
Wannabe? Amateur? Self-conceited, arrogant jerk?
I don’t know the exact classification.
But it’s probably bad.
First, I was depressed.
(Who wouldn’t be?
It was a hard fall from a
Never-there-in-the-first-place Cloud Nine.
It’s unfortunate that this cloud was very, very
High in the sky.)
Then I was jealous.
(Again, who wouldn’t be?)
Finally, I faded away,
Blending in,
Turning pale,
People were wondering where I went.
And I didn’t have the heart to tell them
That the image of the success I was,
Was now flying away fast.
Then I was gone.