The ordinary girl

She wakes up an ordinary girl. Gets ready for work, works, relaxes, goes to bed. Her life like clockwork, ordinary.

But as her head hits her pillow and she closes her eyes, her mind fills with extraordinary things: creatures and whole worlds, revolutions and solutions, hopes and dreams. She flicks through the channels, what will she explore today? Ideas for stories and plays or perhaps art she’d like to create. They all rushed to the front of her mind – “pick me, pick me”, they say –, finally released from the dark corner she stores them, allowing her to go in with her ordinary day.

Her existence transforms whilst she lies on her bed, under her duvet, in her small room, eyes tightly shut. Her mind bursts with colour and action, whilst her room sits still and dark.

One by one she plays with them, develops them and makes them grow stronger. Each thought filled with passion, determination and risk. Till she is sure today will be the day she wakes up an extraordinary girl. Jogs with the sunrise, pitches her ideas, makes new friends, develops her relationships, creates, discovers, explores, goes to bed. Her life like a circuit, lighting up and making connections.

Yet whilst deep in her slumber, her insecurities and fears turn into riot control. They lock shields and circle, drawing closer and closer, shoving all her extraordinary thoughts back into their dark corner. “Go back, she’s not ready” they say – forcing all the colour to seep away.

She wakes up an ordinary girl. Gets ready for work, works, relaxes, goes to bed. Her life like clockwork, ordinary. 

Perfection consists not in doing extraordinary things, but in doing ordinary things extraordinarily well – Angelique Arnauld