Extra ordinary ME
I spent years asking—
why am I always the blur behind the scene?
Why does every story
have a hero…
and then there’s me—
the one who enters,
fixes, feels, fades…
and is forgotten like I was never there?
I used to hate this place—
this silent corner of existence
where no one claps,
no one stays,
no one even notices
when you disappear.
I thought being “extra”
was the lowest role life could give.
But I was wrong.
It takes something brutal
to stand in the shadows
and not beg for light.
To give without becoming needed.
To love without being remembered.
I don’t want to be written
into anyone’s story anymore—
not as their main,
not even as their memory.
This time,
I am crossing out names—
turning others into extras
in the story I once abandoned.
And when I write again—
when I finally hold the script of my own life—
I will still place my name
in the list of “extras”…
but I will carve one word before it—
not softly,
but like a truth that bleeds:
ordinary.
Because I refuse to become
a character built for applause,
a soul shaped for attention.
I am the one who has seen behind the stage—
the fake lights,
the temporary roles,
the hollow claps.
I am the one who chose
self-love over spotlight,
truth over performance,
silence over validation.
And next time—
I won’t try to be seen.
Because I am no longer just an extra.
I am the one
who walked through invisibility…
and came out
extraordinary Me.
By ~𝓳𝓲𝓪