It would be nice to be normal from time to time. To have a brain that sees more than black and white. To never have thoughts overtake the mind at night. To always have eyes that see the light.
Rejected for abnormalities buried deep in the inner wiring of a complex central nervous system. It’s biological, psychological, sociological, and environmental. The perfect storm brewed to create the madness swirling in this tired soul.
So many opportunities forced down the river of hope for admitting to a dysfunctional way of thinking about life.
Pills, on and off. No one wants a person on pills. Pills are shameful. Pills have side effects. Pills are for the weakest hearts. Too bad the pills helped…over and over…because a brain that heals with pills never wants to stop taking them. It needs them. With them…it gets a taste of “normal.” But if it needs pills to be normal, it’s not really normal at all, is it?
Normal…far from normal. Normal chances available to all those NORMAL people who don’t take pills and would never openly show their scars. Normal. It must be nice.
Often, I wish I were normal. I wish I’d never done or said all the things that led me down a path of abnormality. Because now, I’m far down that road. Too far to ever return. I’m tainted and ruined. A recipe for rejection from becoming anything worth reading about. From birth, I wasn’t normal. It was never a choice I made or a path I knowingly chose – so why am I made to feel so…wrong by everyone out there “qualified” to judge what it means to be “normal”?
“Hey kid, you’re not normal. You’re messed up. You need medicine to survive. You can’t do the following with your life: Career A, Job B, Degree plan C, Options D through F, etc…”
It must be nice to be normal. I’ll never know.