Everybody sits around, hoping to get noticed. Sitting on a park bench, poor me, thinks everybody, if I suffer enough, somebody will care. If I suffer enough, somebody will see what a hero I am, with the world on my shoulders, thinks everybody.
Everybody wants to be the star in a movie where nobody else is a star, walking from scene to scene, being adored and worshipped. Everybody wants to be important, while everybody else is unimportant. Everybody wants to elevate himself from the masses, because the masses are just stupid sheep. I must be better than that, thinks everybody. I can not just be dust in the wind, thinks everybody.
I gotta save the world, thinks everybody. Everybody wants to be a policeman, a good man. Everybody wants others to look at him and say that’s a real man. Everybody wants to be stronger, freer, independenter, superior, smarter, morally above everybody who is not everybody.
Everybody wants to have that big romance, that big drama, the big purpose, the big thing that makes him important. Everybody wants to be important, but everybody does not know what important is even supposed to mean.
Everybody is a slave to being a hero.
Everybody is so fucking special. Everybody is misunderstood. Everybody has so much lost potential. Everybody has a tragic life story.
I am too good for this, thinks everybody.
Everybody looks at the Hollywood movies, at those who made it, and everybody thinks: I understand!
Everybody is walking through the movie of his life, from scene to scene. Each scene is filled with lots of unimportant people everybody does not care about. Everybody does not care about the side actors, why would he? The only valid way of existence is to be the main actor.
Everybody sits at the airport, waiting for their true love to stop them from going away, because everybody saw that happen in a movie.
Everybody thinks he is more important than others because he is intelligent, strong, beautiful, witty, funny, desirable, powerful, cute, needy, poor, wealthy, rational, emotional, spiritual.
Everybody is so proud of his scars.
Everybody thinks that the side actors are just waiting for him to go through his mighty journey, to figure out the big truth.
Everybody pictures himself winning arguments, hearts, jackpots, fights, bets. Everybody pictures himself standing up there on the lonely mountain in a heroic pose that would humble gods.
Everybody wants to find that something, to make it.
Everybody does not want to be a side actor, but everybody is. And nobody cares about everybody if everybody is not the main hero, the center of the universe, the one everything revolves around.
Everybody thinks he can save people, fix people, make things right, wake everybody up, achieve something important, have his name remembered, his bloodline continued, the world reflect his greatness back at him.
Everybody thinks he has something important to say, something important to contribute, something to surprise and impress the world.
Everybody wants his life to be meaningful, but he has no clue what meaning is even supposed to mean.
Everybody wants to be special, yet to be it, looks outward to understand what others would consider special.
Everybody wants to ride into that sunset while the orchestra plays meaningful music. And yet, when he is there, on the back of his horse, he realizes that this is not the end. Life knows no end credits. It is just a sunset, just a horse, just an orchestra. When will everybody ever find that final meaning?
Who are the side actors? What do they care about? What are their aspirations? Everybody never asks himself that question.
Everybody is an idiot.