Behind the Curtain

I had this thought... perhaps it is strange. Perhaps my sharing it is strange, but who looks here, anyway? This is my public private place to talk to myself, isn't it? But I've noticed lately, this sort of depression... a depression that's different from the usual void because there is feeling there. I have this feeling, this need to be someone. It's strange, all my life I was that person, that person that was just taking up space, that person that no one liked... that person that could disappear and perhaps the only thing anyone would notice would be that the room was a little warmer, a little less tense, a little less uncomfortable.
But now?
Now I am still no one. I've always known. I've always known that I am no one. But for once I want that to change. I don't want people to know my name. I want to be behind the curtain, always heard but never seen, always questioned but never asked. I want to cast a spell, create a world, mesmerize people. I don't care if people like me. I just want to be known. Not by name, not by face, but by presence alone. I want to be acknowledged, recognized. But what for? What could that possibly be for? I am still no one. Perhaps that will never change. Every time I turn around, someone's done this before, done that before, only better. I grow stronger, but the people around me are already ten times as strong. I'm proud of myself when I cross the finish line, but then I see that everyone is already there. It edges on my motivation, but what am I supposed to do when the world is speeding ahead, leaving me in its dust? I can't turn around and call it quits because that's not the person I am, otherwise I would have disappeared a long time ago. I have no talents, no skills, no strengths. Just flaws, blemishes, weaknesses, and no matter how hard I try to overcome them I always find someone better. Perhaps I should stop comparing myself to others, but how could anyone ever like someone so bland, so mediocre? Someone with so little personality, so much monotone in their voice, such a sheer lack of emotion because they've learned their whole life to keep everything in.
But why?
Why do I have such a need for people to like me? It is but a tail I've been chasing in circles, I trip, and fall, and get back up, but that doesn't change that it is an impossible feat. Yet still, this mad, aggressive perseverance won't let me be. It won't listen to reason. Perhaps it just doesn't understand. Is that what this feeling is reaching for? Something which cannot be done? If that is the case then I will keep trying. Because who doesn't want to accomplish the impossible? Who doesn't want to reach for the stars? And if I cannot touch them, at least I'll have something to occupy my time here.