I read somewhere that when you are born, perhaps just for the briefest of moments, you are the youngest person on the planet and therefore unique. At first that struck me as such a charming thought. But then I realized that birth is not something you choose. Instead, it is chosen for you, and you certainly can’t take any credit for it.
What really matters, what can make a difference, is whether or not you manage to find that uniqueness again, as your own choice, whether you choose to make that choice and follow through with it, whether you have the bravery to look within yourself and find your one unique thing and then find a way to share it, and let others share their uniqueness with you.
This is not something I’m good at. For too many years, my cancerous little friend was my best friend and constant companion. I do not miss him but I’m still learning how to live without him. I had no idea how strong his hold over me was.
Farewell and good riddance, my false-faced friend. In fact, not even farewell. I hope bad things happen to you. I hope it rains every day until the tomatoes in your garden are nothing but bug-infested mush. I hope all of your toenails become ingrown. I hope all four tires on your car go flat and you slam into a concrete wall and your airbags don’t inflate. I hope they create some new bad things to happen to you that have never happened to anyone before.
That could be your shot at uniqueness. Enjoy.