Dear mama, dear papa. My name is nobody. I am minus nine months old. I do not exist, and I am never going to exist. Truth be told, I do not want to exist. That is why I am slowing down my pace, letting others rush by me and allowing them to be born instead. Because, mama and papa, I am not going to bring you any joy.
The Creator said I would be smart, but not quite as smart as the smartest. I would learn to read and write like everybody else, and I would have a certain interest in poetry, but I would never create anything of importance. I will learn mathematics and physics, and I will understand the basics, but I will not be able to advance. I will study communication and culture, have a decent job and contribute to the general survival of my cooperation, but I will not invent anything new or develop and improve anything already existing.
The Creator said I would be pretty, but not quite as pretty as the prettiest. I would have had long, dark blonde hair and green eyes, and I would be quite slim, except for my thighs, which would grow rather thick during puberty. I would also have problems with pimples, which I would pay more attention to than my sparkling white smile or small, soft hands. As an adult, my husband will always love me despite any of my flaws, but as my body withers, he would discreetly turn to magazines with young, pretty girls in them.
The Creator said I would be kind, but not quite as kind as the kindest. As a kid, I would always want other kids to join the game, but I would never find the courage to be the one who actually asks them to join us. As a teenager, I would want tolerance and respect to be virtues to live by in our society, but still I would silently judge those who are different. As an adult, I would join different charity organizations, but I would never donate more money than necessary, or actually visit the needy people that I was helping.
The Creator said I would be funny, but not quite as funny as the funniest. I will come up with some jokes, make a few laugh, mostly my closest friends, but I will never be brave enough to joke around in public or be the center of parties. I would sometimes find myself telling jokes that failed terribly, and then I would feel awful afterwards. When I grew up, it would be easier for me to make jokes without fearing what others may think, but I will still not make people laugh very often.
The Creator said I would be strong, but not quite as strong as the strongest. I would endure a couple of heartaches and I would get over them in time. I would stand through different storms of disappointment, like job refusals or people I like that do not like me back. I would cry a river when you die, mama and papa, but I will get through this too. I manage, but only from the help of friends and family. Alone, I would not be able to get through any of this. And truth be told, I would never lead a very harsh life that demanded such strength, because I would never face rape or murder, have mental issues, experience war, death of a child, or anything like that.
So here I am, watching the others slip past me with immense speed. I have stopped. I have changed my mind. I do not want a life that will be just another couple of feet on this earth’s surface. I love you, mama and papa, so hopefully you will have a child of more importance than me.
You are magnificent parents. You deserve a somebody. I am nobody.