they call me mister grey

if I could describe myself with a colour, I'd pick grey. Drab, uninspired, something that no one notices, because it's not only in the background, it is the background.

in case u think this is going to degenerate into depressed babble, I'll just say that I'm not particularly depressed right now. But I am feeling serious.

I find myself wondering if there is anything about me that marks me out as an individual, more than just some blocky shadow. Have I managed to transcend the constraints of the brutal industrial processes that surround my life and become more than another assembly-line product, QC-ed, packaged and ready for immediate use?

I like the songs that most people like. I read the books that most people read. I think the thoughts that most people think.

Does that mean I'm one of the 'most people'? One of the ordinary guys? Another faceless figure in a mass of faceless figures?

Do I possess some quality that breaks up the featureless monotone? Or am I content with claiming that my collection of intrinsic qualities, while ordinary in themselves, combine to make up a unique individual? That I'm a colourful figure, painted from a thousand grey brushstrokes?

I know the questions. But I do not have the answers.

Do you?