If uniqueness was contagious...

If uniqueness was contagious, some days I must be the most isolated person I know.  Creativity sparks from people I know and yet I seem to have not caught fire.  In each way I thought I was special, I discover that I am not so unique.  Like a hypochondriac, every imagined symptom leads me to believe that I have in fact discovered what makes me unique; the thing that provides me with purpose.  But in the end, my more rational side leads me to realize that perhaps I am not as infected as I thought.  Once I was creative and artsy, today I find creativity overflowing from the souls of everyone. Though perhaps some have sought to camoflauge it with a bit more effort than others.  I used to take comfort in my ambition to be without ambition, to strive for nothing more than to appreciate life.  These days, I notice that after the pursuit of even the highest ambition, everyone is really only seeking to enjoy life in the way they know best.  Could it be that my idea of life is just slower and more relaxed?  My childhood, my body, my friends, and my faith.  Everything I could imagine which makes me unique is shared by at least one other person I know.  I sometimes find myself pondering the possibility that there is someone I do not know who shares all of these attributes, another me.
And yet, I refuse to believe that there is nothing which makes me unique.  I am certain that if there was nothing special about me, there would be no reason for me to exist.  My uniqueness is something greater than a specific characteristic or quality or the color of my eyes, it is an element of my purpose.  I have confidence that there is no one else in the present, past, or future that will be able to glorify God in exactly the way I will.  Of course this is not to say that my worship is best, or even half as good as everyone elses.  But it is mine and because of that my Father is pleased.