We relish news of our heroes, forgetting that we are extraordinary to somebody too.

You're somebody's hero too

There's something oddly comforting about this idea—that the same way you probably follow someone's life with genuine interest, someone out there is doing the same with yours. Not in a stalker way, but in that natural human way where we notice people who matter to us. Maybe it's a younger cousin who thinks you've got your life figured out. Maybe it's a colleague who sees how you handle pressure. Maybe it's someone you barely know who remembers you were kind to them once.

We're trained to look outward for the extraordinary—the celebrities, the successful people, the ones with impressive stories. But that lens makes us terrible judges of our own lives. We live inside the ordinary details: the struggle before the success, the doubt mixed in with the competence, the small decisions that felt unremarkable at the time. We don't get to see ourselves the way others do, which means we're almost always underestimating the impact we're having just by being who we are.

This matters more now maybe, when we're constantly comparing our behind-the-scenes to everyone else's highlight reel. The reminder isn't just feel-good fluff—it's permission to stop waiting to be famous or figured-out before we matter. You already do, to someone, in ways you probably can't even see.