It strikes me as odd that so much effort is required of me in order to behave normally, when it should come naturally. - Natural, normal. - The two should be relatively synonomous. But for me, they are as distinct as night and day. Night is my natural, where everything unusual and unrelated to the mundane crouches - ready to pounce on the smallest insight into normal behavior on my part. Normal? That is daytime, as sure as I'm alive. Everything I would like to be in several categories is "Normal". What a wonderful thing to have as your own. Normality.
Of course, that isn't to say I wouldn't enjoy being slightly abnormal in some ways... As a matter of fact, I rejoice in the differences between me and most other people I know... But in some areas, in some private place in my mind, I would love to do the things they do so naturally. Every difference I have seems to have come with a price.
Today, I sat in the mall food court with Rebecca, and I saw my computers teacher, alone, wandering up to buy food. I watched her, and halfheartedly tried to attract her attention. However, once she had gotten her food and I figured getting her attention wouldn't be in my best interest (due to the fact that I skipped her class today), I looked away.
Looked away, only to look back and feel every bit of normality I had felt in the seconds before drip out of me like so much sludge. She sat at a table with a little blonde girl - her younger double in many ways - as young as 10, perhaps. I wasn't jealous of the child... I could have one of my own someday. No, it was the way they were smiling and carrying on.
My mom was there, sure. I hope this doesn't sound as though she wasn't. I just looked at the primly dressed teacher, and I knew that she had a husband at home, that beautiful daughter, a good job, and that smile. I envied that smile so much and with such green eyes I thought the smile itself might leap off her face and hide from me. Even worse, I wondered if she was even aware of how lucky she was. Her, or the daughter. Because not only did she have the family I did not, but she was able to aquire it.
While I am here in ruins.
...People leave remnants of themselves everywhere they are seen. In hallways of schools, on streets, and in parks. Faces and memories haunt and please everyone around, without discrimination. We see evidence of them everywhere we go, as though these past people frequently and casually lobbed off personality traits, smiles, and tears everywhere they went, if only to leave a trace.
The only difference from person to person is what we see. What we are reminded of. And that is what sets me apart from my dear computers teacher, and her beautiful family. That is what sets me apart from you.
The Remnants of an Afternoon.The remnants of an afternoon
Are haunting as the harvest moon -
Taking over night and sky,
And leaving out the reason why
We had remembered them so soon.
Mem'rys quick and solid, true,
Never lying - never new
But older in their oldest ways;
They bring us back unto the days
We wished to leave and not to rue.
But unforgotten mem'rys are
Always near, and never far;
Never really leaving home -
Yet every where we ought to rome -
And beyond that, they're who we are.
Normal people worry me. If I were "normal" I would have had atleast 20 boyfriends, had a pregnancy scare, drink and/or do drugs, I would be a statistic. I do however understand when you say you wish you could "do the things others do so naturally" ,because that is considred normal. Many times in my life I have wished the same thing. But I try hard not to now because if I were "normal" I wouldnt be me. I wouldnt be unique. I cannot completely empathize with you, but I can sympithize. Unlike you, from what it sounds like, I have a great relationship with my mom. I havent had the same hardships you have growing up. But it is those things that help mold us into who we are. (It is not just those things, of course, there are other factors in our lives that help aswell). Once we are molded and formed into us then we can try as hard as we want to fit into the mold the world says is "normal", but we will never completely fit. Who decides what is "normal" anyway? I know I was never in on that discussion. And if it concerns me I think I should have been.Something that caught my attention that I can relate to as well was what you said in an earlier post,"I find myself torn between spilling my thoughts online - cryptic, but open - with my name attatched to condemn me, or holding it all in to myself. Which is more appealing to me? Expression? Knowing that even so, no one will hear? Or waiting to see who comes looking for what I haven't told?" I totally understand what you mean. That is why I started a blog. Because I have learned the hard way that keeping in my feelings causes more harm than good to myself. Even if no one is listening I still feel better knowing I let it all out somehow. And know that your not speaking to an empty room. Someone is sitting there, listening. And not just the funny or easy things to hear. All are heard, the good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. And I know you dont know me very well and I dont know you very well either, but know that atleast one person isnt just listening to the fluff, but is also hearing the truth and the pain. Know your not alone in this fight. :)
ReplyDelete<3 You are sweet. Thank you.
ReplyDelete