There was once a person. A person like any other. He disliked doing anything difficult, had enough friends, a boring, normal family, and studied only because he had to. An unremarkable person. Completely ordinary. But he wanted to be different. He wished that suddenly he would be endowed with something that distinguished him from this world, this world with no edges. He would stare at his hands that contained no magic. He couldn't create anything out of them. There were no beautiful words strung together to form beautiful poetry. There weren't any smears of paints on them, nothing to show the hard work he did on his invisible canvasses. There were no long, gracious fingers which could produce gorgeous music that enthralled people with their sheer greatness. There were no hands which could solve equations claimed to be impossible. No Nobel prize was to be received by them. He would look at his short, stubby hands each time he crossed her path. She was the personification of uniqueness. She was always bouncing around, apparently full of energy, even after questionably long days. Her hands were permanently covered with scribbles, to-do notes, stray bits of literature, hand drawn pictures and calculations. She was a force of nature, always ready to protect what she believed in. Somebody to be reckoned with. She was a flurry of colours that overwhelmed him each time she brushed past him, apparently not noticing his existence. She walked alone, but that was enough. She was wonder.
In the same world there was she. She was not like anybody else. She didn't believe in what others believed in. She didn't know or care about what the society expected. She was just like that. And no matter how much she tried it was not going change. In this world where a sky you can reach out to is the limit. But sometimes she disliked herself. Sometimes she used to wonder how it was like to be ordinary. Just a part of the crowd. Oh, how she yearned to stand in. She was so much that most people couldn't put up with her. She who talked to a tree, she who wouldn't realise if the world ended in front of her. She who sang weird songs even though she knew she couldn't sing to save her. She who used words nobody really understood. The person who was greeted by awkward silences and half-hearted smiles. A person who could simply be nothing but herself. But she didn't care for this. She wanted to be cared for. She just wanted to be a part . She never wanted to be alone. She just wanted to be invisible like that him. He always had two or three people around. He would just blend in perfectly unlike she who stood out like a sore thumb. He never needed to be doing anything. People just liked him. He was a shadow in a world without colour. He was the preferred good enough. And that's all she wanted to be. Enough.