Everyone wants to be special.
I’m not talking about your run-of-the-mill, Hannah-Montana, rom-com special.
I grew up watching shows like Power Rangers, Sailor Moon, Pokemon, and Digimon, to name a few. I read things like Dragonball Z or Harry Potter. I thouroughly enjoyed movies that included stories of reincarnation or revival; Catwoman comes to mind. I noticed a pattern here: the main characters (or titular secondary characters as in Pokemon or Digimon) had powers, weren’t necessarily human, didn’t come from Earth, or were destined to save things from other things. They were special.
I would spin around by myself in my room, singing my own made up theme song as I transformed into whatever character I felt like. “I am Sailor Earth!” I would sometimes proclaim, or I would walk up the stairs on all fours pretending to be a felid humanoid. I watched a lot of TV growing up, until my parents cut my time down to the weekends when my grades were slipping, but as a 90’s kid, I made use of the Internet however I could.
I wanted so badly to be special enough to be told I was something destined for greatness, even if it meant finding out I was adopted, or being put in enough danger for my true potential to kick in. I wanted a letter to our world’s version of Hogwarts. I wanted a cat to scare the shit out of me because it could talk. I still count off all the landmark birthdays to see if my family (or anyone really) has something to say about who I really am. While than can still happen in an entirely different context, that story is for another day…
I think my problem growing up, now that I think about it, is that I felt like almost everyone I knew treated me like I was nothing, but that somewhere deep inside I knew I was something. I wasn’t like these people, these “foolish mortals” or what-have-you. There was no way I could feel like shit forever. So I waited.
And I kept waiting. Until it grew into a sort of depression.
Depressed because I had waited in vain. Depressed because I was stuck being like everyone else, who didn’t like me very much anyway. Depressed because I felt that if I couldn’t be something, that I would end up being nothing. So what was the point of going on living this life?
The music talks to me like no person has ever succeeded in doing. Don’t get me wrong; I have a decent support system, but try as they might, they can’t know what’s going on between my ears, in the auditory or psychological sense. The music has a message for its listeners, and only a few are fluent enough to understand. And one day… it told me something. Something I still don’t quite comprehend, but made sure I’d never forget…
But for now, here’s this: You grow up watching enough television to think that you’re still waiting on the day for someone to come tell you what you’re destined to be.
Sometimes you watch too much television and decide for yourself.