A mediocre life
Who decides if a life is mediocre? We talk about “ordinary” like it is a disease. Something to outrun, outgrow, or be ashamed of. As if a life that does not look exceptional from the outside must be empty on the inside. Somewhere, someone quietly set the rules, and we agreed without questioning them. I am terrified of living an ordinary life. But the more I think about it, the more I realise I do not actually know what that means. Is it a life without experiences? Without love? Or is it simply a life where we stop paying attention? The obsession with being extraordinary has made us strangely disconnected. We chase bigger, louder, more impressive versions of ourselves, convinced that meaning exists somewhere else. In the next milestone. The next breakthrough. The next version of us. We do not chase extraordinary lives; we chase validation disguised as ambition. I have realised something uncomfortable. In my fear of mediocrity, I have been missing my own moments. I am so busy meas...