Mediocrity

Day 6 of StoryADay May.
Prompt: Write the Real You

(Disclaimer from Susan: Like everything I write, this piece contains me. It also contains not-me. I leave it up to you to decide which bits are which.)

I am not a failure.

Most people would say that I am a success. But there would be the slightest moment of hesitation, the tiniest of pauses. I hear it every time someone praises my accomplishments.

I am never the winner of the big prize. I am never best in show, at the top of my class.

I am firmly rooted in the upper echelon of mediocrity. Before you say “Oo, but you’re good with words,” let me confess that I stole that phrase from an Indigo Girls song.

I was on the short list for the FBI, but not offered a position as an agent.

I was runner-up for Miss Teen Florida.

I was the puppeteer inside Audrey II instead of playing the part of Audrey.

This is my life. Always the bridesmaid. Never the bride. Never the best, but I’ll do in a pinch.

I keep moving. I keep trying on new roles, new skills. I am okay to good at everything that I set out to do. But never amazing. I haven’t found my thing. I am a Jack of all trades and master of none (again with the word-thievery).

Yet again, I am trying something new. An unexpected opportunity has fallen into my lap. The pay is good. The job demands a certain skill set. Cunning, planning, secrecy, bravery, determination. I have those things. The question, as always, is do I have enough to be great.

The job is simply explained. Kill Durrant Sarna. Make it look like a natural death.

I am tired of being almost the best. I will make myself the best at this thing.

Or die trying.