I’m famous in certain circles. You may think that every species of animal
has been discovered by now, but that’s not true. No, the legends of massive
monsters hiding from cameras in the forests are not what I’m talking about.
Nor am I talking about microscopic organisms, which we may never catalogue
comprehensively. I found something in between...something very special. As
remote as the region is where I discovered it, I’m surprised that no one had
noticed it before. Well, I’m guessing that people centuries ago knew about
it, but didn’t think to write it down. That’s probably what happened. I
chose to name it the marsupian sandeater. It doesn’t really eat sand, but it
really does live in the desert, and it really is a marsupial. That’s the
first thing that was so special about it. This species is the only known
marsupial to exist somewhere besides Australia or the Americas. Nothing like
this has been found on the continent of Africa. The assumption is that they
were transported here at some point, but scientists have yet to find
evidence of that, or similarly that they aren’t indigenous to the region, as
crazy as that sounds. Like the kangaroo rat, this thing can survive on an
incredibly low amount of water. It actually recycles it throughout its
system a few times before crystalizing the waste, and passing it. It doesn’t
sweat, but uses blood flow to regulate its own temperature, and cool itself
in the hot climate. It’s an amazing creature, and I feel such pride for
having been the first to find it, and realize what I had. It was totally by
accident. I enjoy learning the sciences, but I don’t have a degree myself. I
guess you could call me a lifelong learner, because I love to read, and I
know how to do research on my own. So I wasn’t super involved in the ongoing
research into it, but like I said, I was given the honor of naming it, and I
received general credit for the achievement too.
Sadly, my fifteen minutes of fame didn’t last very long, which is surely why
they call it that. I spent my life after that trying to recreate the magic,
whether it was a second new species in the Amazon rainforest, or a new
method of detecting exoplanets. Nothing came of my efforts. I wasn’t able to
make a single significant accomplishment since. As it turns out, it was only
a fluke. I wasn’t special, I wasn’t skilled. I was a nobody that time would
eventually forget. I took that trip to my ancestral lands to find my true
self somewhere on the journey, but I ended up just finding a fabricated
version of myself. He was special. He mattered. But he died long ago, and
the world was left with this lesser facsimile. My obsession with bringing
him back to life drove me deeper and deeper into obscurity, and truthfully,
mediocrity. I should have found my true passion. I should have focused on
figuring out my skill set, and contributing to the world in my own way,
instead of giving up on anything that didn’t produce results immediately,
like the one time it did. My family and friends could see it. They kept
trying to get me to settle down, but I didn’t listen, and there is nothing I
regret more. There is nothing I could regret more, because it was my
entire identity. I defined myself as someone who was going to do great things,
rather than someone who was going to do his best, and try to be happy. I had
the opportunity to go see the healer in America, but I decided the last
thing I needed was more time. It was probably only going to come with more
disappointment. I’m like that little marsupial in the Sahara; self-reliant
to a fault, uninteresting but for one thing, with nothing better to do than
burrow in the sand, and not drink water.
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