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Unexpectedly Extraordinary

Or Just Ordinary

By Laura Featherston Published 3 years ago 3 min read
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Unexpectedly Extraordinary
Photo by Lucas Oliveira on Unsplash

Since I was about 7 years old I’ve always been a big dreamer. Starting off aspiring to one day be a firefighter, a Nurse, a Psychologist, a Teacher, a Singer, a Rapper, a Videographer and the list goes on. I’d sit for hours writing in my little black, poorly constructed, book of how extraordinary my life would be once I turned twenty two years old. If only I knew that at twenty eight years old I would still be writing in that same little black book about dreams I would never aspire to be. I would only grow to be a basic human making minimum wage at a local internet company in a retirement state of no excitement. I’d play lotteries but I’d never win; I’d fantasize of having basic necessities that others around me achieve effortlessly. I would be denied at every advance to be better. I would invest and lose, I would even participate in “helping” my local community; when to be honest, I was the one in the community that needed help the most. I would even be so basic so ordinary that I would get a chance to pocket a $20,000 donation that was misplaced into my personal account, and no one knew, that my heart and my basic, so ordinary, mind would return every penny to its rightful owner. Of course they would be so thankful that I would get so much praise from the community for simply doing the right thing. They would say that I am truly “unexpectedly extraordinary” and that I am “wealthy” in ways money couldn’t amount to.But what does that even mean? How am I wealthy but still dust bowl broke? Well once I get home and prepare for my next ordinary day, I sit and open my poorly constructed little black book and I read over all of the dreams I had aspired to be and I would ultimately agree that turning in that unexpected fortune definitely made me “unexpectedly extraordinary”; but not in the way the community saw. It made me unexpectedly extraordinary in a sense that I was exactly where I started when I was only seven, doing the right thing. Believing that the good I put out into the world would be returned. In a sense of “good karma”. How naive could I be? Did I really get a blessing of someone else’s mishap and turn around to reject that blessing? I began to hyperventilate, realizing that my life was mediocre so unnecessary that even if given the opportunity to advance with twenty thousand dollars, it just wasn’t in the “little black book for me”. Even if I wrote in my little black book an elaborate plan to take back what wasn’t mines to begin with, would it even be worth it? Would I get caught? As I thought about conjuring up this extraordinary plan to steal from a nonprofit organization I began to second guess and my weak heart and mind turned against me. Was it unexpectedly extraordinary that I returned what wasn’t mines? Was it unexpectedly extraordinary that I regretted returning it? Was it unexpectedly extraordinary that I wrote up a plan in a little black book to steal twenty thousand dollars from a community that needed it most? Or was it just unexpectedly extraordinary that I turned something so small, into such a big deal that I questioned my own worth and my own honor, nobility, respect, decency, lofty bearing, lowliness, self-respect, elevated deportment, lordliness, and dignity? Or was it really just unexpectedly extraordinary that the only thing I could consider during this entire mishap is my own misfortunes?

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About the Creator

Laura Featherston

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