Middle ground
“Say a little something about yourself.”
For many years I have been put on the spot by this prompt. Imagine wracking your brain for answers that aren’t there. What am I to say? My life is humdrum, a routine. I have neither achieved anything nor was so bad at anything that it was practically noteworthy. In other words, I have been insignificant, a fleeting ghost that you never see, just feel on occasion.
I have joined a number of contests—spelling bees, poem recitals, etc. I have never won a thing, not even the bronze. People tell me I have a nice voice. But nice won’t get you anywhere. Nice won’t take you to “The Voice” or “American Idol.”
People sometimes comment on my writing, how I have a voice, and how I weave my words magically. But my words, apparently, are not enough for a novel or, hell, a column in the school paper. I do remember being first in class when I was in first grade. Oh, wait. I had to share that spot, too—with a girl with the same average grade.
My classmates have their own “stamp,” or defining quality. That girl behind me? She sings like an angel. That guy on my right? He draws stuff you’ve never seen before. It makes me wonder how others see me, or if they actually do. Am I just here? Made to fill space?
I’m stuck. I’m stuck in the middle. I am never an extreme, or a superlative. And it is incredibly difficult to define myself without significant qualities. My so-so moments are immediately erased from your and everyone’s mind.
I am aware, of course, that I am not the only one standing on middle ground. But it isn’t any consolation. Imagine having to share the middle with a billion others. For the nth time, I won’t be considered special. I’m practically invisible.
These thoughts are not simple whines, for they come with wisdom (almost everything that puts a weight on your shoulder teaches you something). I know that I am only 16 and I’ve got plenty of years ahead of me. I may not know who I am now, but someday, I will. I may be able to put a mark in this world if I put my heart into it.
I know that the middle is important. What will hold the extremes together? How will the whole be whole?
And just because you’re in the middle now doesn’t mean you’ll be there forever. You can take charge. You may seem immobile now, but you are not. Take the earth, for example. You won’t feel it spinning, but the next thing we know, we’re turning a new leaf for the new year.
Here’s to all those who are (and were) in the middle. We are not just the space in between. We hold everything together.
Roanne Manio, 16, is studying accountancy at the Bulacan State University.
