I was shy in my early life so they told me to be myself, and I tried.

A quite random surge of different thoughts put into text.

But whom did they say it to, was it me? Was I myself back then? Or maybe it wasn't me. Maybe it was my artificial persona, specifically designed to make me look more friendly to someone? What if the only person to whom I can finally be myself is me? Then what? How do I make people know who I am, without pushing my ego in their face. Should I kill my ego? Sounds reasonable, but then I am back to square one. I have again become that certain nobody, the one without any charisma or passion. By doing so I become likable, don't I? A background that presents absolutely no competition, a play toy made for the entertainment of others. Should I stop living this way? Can I? Or am I already accustomed to this sort of lifestyle, so much so that I have come up with my own reason for why I shouldn't? What if people like me have the perfect personality type? Why always compete in this race to the top of the mountain? Have you no idea how cold and lonely it is there? Look down and you will see two types of people: the ones who are staring with a blank face in a sad attempt to hide their feelings of jealousy and others who are cheering at the foot of the mountain. What? Why haven't they started the climbing up? Don't they want to be remembered in history? Why are they so pitifully happy and pathetically cheerful? They are nothing and nobody knows them! Yet they are happy. At the top you feel unhappy. Above the lonely clouds you have no one with whom you can share your achievement, no one who can even hear your loudest cry. But don't worry, in the future, long after you die, there will be a book about you , there always is. And we will read that book, and we will want to be like you. But there will always be that one person, that one weird, foreign shadow of a person who thrives on your achievements, who knows how to bring happiness into his life, unlike you, always chasing that one star that is so far away its unreachable. You place upon yourself the burden of a goal in life. You study for years, ignoring anything and anyone who may stray you from your aim. Years pass, and yet you are still aiming towards this ultimate happiness. Then you die. Books are written about you, you are remembered and studied in schools around the world. People praise you, they build monuments in your name. You are finally happy. Your soul has finally reached this star, this goal. And yet you cant crack a smile, for you died with a blank face, hiding your feelings of anger. Because you tried to climb to the top and couldn't due to your mortal being. Us at the bottom know that at the top can only be a god. And we are happy, for we have no ego. We will never try to make you end your climb towards divinity, we only look at you with gratitude in our hearts, for you have sacrificed so much to gain so little. And you did it for us.