past the quarter-century mark, and still wondering

i may not own a ferragamo gown, but at least i've got that slim, lithe body that you'll only ever dream of having.

as an adolescent, i'd favoured the notion that i might be a prodigy at, aah, something. anything. whenever report cards were given out, i'd tell myself that flimsy subjects as physics and maths were not meant for me. i was special, just that i had not yet discovered what it was i was good at. i mean, how else could you explain the ease with which i could master a piece without much practice on the piano each week?

just think of all the things i have not been given the chance to try, like sailing! piloting an aircraft! horseback-riding! there certainly is a great mind-boggling amount of untapped potential! perhaps i really am exceptionally gifted at something, only i haven't had the chance to know it! the world might yet be presented with the most talented cellist! entering the classical music scene only at the mature age of 26! a true musical prodigy! the world applaudes!

sadly, i have been forced to accept the fact that i am, indeed, not... special. as time advances, there seems to be less and less to show for my belief in my own exclusive powers. resigned to live a life of mediocrity in a meritocratic society, i lurk in the dank alleyways with my slim, lithe body, darting green-eyed glances at those in their dolce and gabbana suits.