I’ve spent my whole life just one second behind the perfectly timed comment. Just one second from being clever, witty and loved by all. My preposterously brilliant commentaries get so close to the action yet never make the team because of that one second lag.
Let me be clear. If the perfectly witty response did not have a one second head start, I would still be silent. I could never find the nerve to actually say anything.
Even when offered a vast audience of hungry ears, I will always hide in the wings. Silent. I can hear myself delivering the perfect line. But still, I am silent.
My flashes of genius just sit there. One second, one minute, one lifetime. It doesn’t matter. I’ll forever be the kid who dreams in words yet never speaks.
In my version of the story, my clever lines and cagey lyrics barely miss the target. They barely miss by precisely by one second.
In reality, the miss is more. A lot more. A lifetime, really.
I am not wired for quick words. I do not excel at perfectly timed quips. But yet, I have a story.