I'm not special.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not being down on myself. Just realistic. EVERYone has a story. When I was younger, I thought my life story would make an interesting read. Maybe I would inspire someone. You read all the time about how normal people are. But I thought I was different. I'm white, but I grew up as a minority on an island of mostly brown people. I lived on Alcatraz Island as a toddler. John Lennon sang to me in a bookstore in California. I had a radio show as a teen. But the older I get, the more I realize that EVERYone has an interesting story. Some you have to dig deeper than others to find. Take my sister for example. She is...extraordinary. She has overcome so many obstacles, only to be dealt more all the time. Yet she managed to raise two amazing girls. If she ever wrote an autobiography, I would read it in a heartbeat. Reading this, you might think we've had an amazing relationship. But we didn't. I spent a lot of time being so frustrated by her. I wish I'd spent that time helping her. We've been a lot closer the last few years, true. But we still have work to do to be better sisters. Mostly me.
But my point, if I can find it again, is that I'm not as interesting as I thought I was. I'm ordinary. But only because we are all extraordinary. And in a world of extraordinary people, extraordinary is ordinary. Now I feel like I'm in a George Orwell novel. For more reasons than one.