The art of living a mediocre life.
What’s mediocrity? I sit and think a little as the weather has allowed me, to focus on something other than the heat.
I’m thinking how my life is different from any other person living in any other part of the world, a person living in androon Lahore or a person in chitral, a person studying in university abroad…
Everyone is different but then we’re just like everyone else I have no high lineage, I’m a daughter of a simple man, I have no generational wealth, I’m no genius, I can only half decently write or paint. but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t value myself, that doesn’t mean I should limit my self.
Mediocrity is a lie, I can learn skills unlearned by the mass I can assist in things missed by the mass I can do everything and anything, and be different. (Isn’t that what we want, to escape being ordinary)
Sometimes we blur the line of individuality and identity, I’m not just another privileged person who’s parents worked tirelessly to own a home, a car and such
I’m also a young person with time on her hands. I’m also a person experiencing life. I’m also a person who wants to be a writer. A person who wakes up every morning and knows that’s a serious thing.
