My goal in life has never been to be too loud. 

I have never stood out in a crowd. 

Introvert. 

 

Standardized testing is definitely my weakness.

It brings tears to my eyes to get back scores, again, and continue to feel the same sadness.

Barley average. 

 

I have ideas that I would like to express during a class debate.

But I cringe at the feeling of 26 pairs of eyes staring at me with judgement and hate.

Quiet.

 

If you could look my name up in a dictionary, I wouldn't want these words to be synonyms beside my name.

What have I done in 18 years, that could bring my name a small amount of fame?

I have pondered this question for more time than I would like to admit. 

And overthinking this question, and coming up with nothing, has given my emotions quite the hit. 

 

I did finally discover the answer.

It is nothing that describes me as a great artist, thinker, author, or dancer. 

I now know what I am and will forever be remembered for.

But it's also nothing that is going to make people want to hang out with me more.

 

The man who I helped read a challenging book despite being mentally handicapped. 

He understands that he is smart and not only defined as mentally inapt. 

Compassionate. 

 

The young girl I tutor in math, a subject that I was never good in.

I continue to remind her that this challenge can be overcome and to not let the hardship win. 

Encouraging.

 

In low income neighborhoods I speak to children about troubles in there lives.

I vehemently tell them that drugs and crime can only cut apart families like knives. 

Caring.

 

These words are nice and kind.

But when people look my name up in the dictionary, this isn't what I want them to find. 

I only want to be known by the works of my hands. 

I want to know that what I have done in my life has helped people across all lands.

Calling.