|Where Do I Stand?
Author: ebi pers PM
In such a well-known, successful family, it can be hard not knowing where you stand. And no one knows this better than Wilbur Robinson. Oneshot drabbleRated: Fiction K - English - Family/Angst - Wilbur R. - Words: 891 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 11 - Follows: 1 - Published: 12-26-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8837538
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Hello everyone! Hope your holidays are going well! Those expecting updates to the "Some Nights" saga or "The Skies Shall Fall Again" fear not! Updates are in progress for those two but I got sidetracked with this little oneshot after watching the charming "Meet the Robinson." It occurred to me that everyone has his or her place in the Robinson family-a talent or hobby of some sort. Or at least they know where they stand. But what about Wilbur? It just seems that in such a talented family he would feel the pressure to be extraordinary too. And it's highly plausible that he would feel inadequate. So thus was born this story. Please read and, if you've got the time, review! Thanks and enjoy!
When you come from the type of family I do, everyone just assumes you have it easy. I mean, come on, I'm a Robinson for God's sake. My life must be easy. We're rich, we're respected, we're household names! But, when you think about it, all that glory belongs to my parents, my family, not me. People just assume I've got it good. And maybe that's technically true. Maybe I shouldn't be so ungrateful...It's just that...I wish some of that glory was mine. That I had earned it. Every time someone compliments me on something my family has done, I feel like I'm lying. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I've just got some sort of god complex. I don't know. It's just so hard sometimes, trying to measure up to the Robinson name. I mean, just look at my relatives. They're all good at something.
My mother pioneered an entirely new field of music. She taught those frogs to sing and she's not too bad at it herself. My grandmother was a leading scientist until her retirement. Grandpa Bud, for all his craziness, had clout in the scientific community as well. Aunt Billie has her trains, and she's amazing at driving them. Uncle Art has the fastest pizza delivery service in the galaxy! And then there's Uncle Gaston and his stunt skills, Laszlo and his artistic talent, the list goes on and on...
And there's my dad. My hero (and don't you dare tell him I said that). I wish I had half the creativity, the determination, the skill that he does. He invented the time machine for crying out loud! This world, this reality is all thanks to him. Everything that I have is because of him. The second inspiration pops in his head he's off, creating, improving, developing until finally he produces some invention that eases people's lives, benefits them in some way. Everything that comes out of his head is good. Everything that comes out of his head is practically worshipped!
But me? I'm not any of those things. I can't play an instrument to save my life. My one third grade science fair project was a model solar system that took home a "participation award." Don't ask me to build a model train track or fire myself out of a cannon or paint a picture because I just can't. And don't get me started on inventing. I have tried since I was three years old to make something, anything but there isn't a single idea I can come up with. I can't even create a clay model of anything. There's nothing I'm good at! It's ironic how the world's most creative family could produce the world's most untalented kid.
What have I done? I've screwed things up plenty of times. I almost ruined my own existence and even then, it was my dad who saved the day, not me. My teachers have always said I'm too easily distracted, too impatient, too this, too that...
And my friends? Well the few I have (the ones that aren't just trying to get in good with my family) have no idea. They think I'm Wilbur Robinson, the cocksure son of Cornelius Robinson. And maybe that's easier-to pretend that I know what I'm doing, to pretend to know my place in the world. Because in reality I don't have a clue. Everyone else seems to know where they stand in the world. But what about me? Where do I stand? I haven't even begun to figure it out...
A/N: Quick little drabble/ramble from the point of view of Wilbur. I've always wondered if maybe his somewhat arrogant facade is to hide a deeper insecurity. It would be pretty easy to be insecure about oneself in such a successful environment. And I'm almost 100% sure his parents wouldn't pile on the pressure but at the same time, he seems to have the type of personality that would drive him to push himself beyond his limits. Wilbur's a character I identify with fairly easily so this was sort of mindless writing project on my part. How did I do? Good? Awful? Likes? Dislikes? Tell me in a review! And just to clarify this is, in fact, a oneshot that is deliberately left open.