Almost

She was almost pretty. Not like a cover girl, but like a forest fire. Tragic in its destruction, but exquisite to look at all the same. Constantly criticized for not being everyone’s cup of tea. She learned to keep to herself.

He was almost smart. Never got straight A’s, but was a visionary. He saw the world in way no one else could possibly understand. He was harshly judged for his distinctive views. He learned to keep his opinions unspoken.

She was almost funny. Only a select few could properly appreciate her unique sense of humor. Outrageous with her words, she was verging on obscene. Never meaning to offend, but some were still displeased. She learned to keep her mouth shut.

Almost pretty. Almost smart. Almost funny. They were almost good enough. But then again, almost is not what people want. You’re supposed to be attractive, you have to be intelligent, and people couldn’t possibly like you if you’re not amusing.

So here’s to the almost kids. The ones who sit in the back of the room or hold up the wall. The ones who feel that they are not enough of something. I see you, and you are everything you need to be. You are not almost anything. You are anything absolute.