Do I Even Want To Be “Normal”?
I often wonder, sometimes aloud and other times in my head.
What if I were “normal”?
If I were “normal”, would I be able to talk to strangers? Or would I still get the fear that I get now? Would my body still get all hot and flushed and my skin feels as though it was doused in lemon juice? Do you think I’d be able to join that club? You know, the one I’ve been wanting to join forever. Perhaps the gremlin voices inside my head would stop repeating, ‘You’re a loser, you’re a loser, you’re a loser’, long enough for me to speak.
If I were “normal”, would I still get anxious whenever plans change? Would I be able to deal with missed trains, unusual sounds, and rescheduled dates without the threat of stress? What would it feel like without my fingers dancing restlessly in my lap and my head involuntarily twitching? Would I miss that twitch, if it were gone, would I feel its absence like a phantom limb?
If I were “normal”, would I forget every character's name from Harry Potter? Would I still be able to quote all the films word for word and know how to successfully brew ‘Amortentia’? Or would there be an empty Filofax in my brain labelled ‘My special interest 2007’? Instead, would it just be a blank space, an empty child? Something I don’t feel ashamed to mention for fear of boring all those who ask;
'Which Hogwarts house are you in?’
If I were “normal”, would I have the freedom to wear whatever I liked? Or would I still wear the same two fleeces, the ones with the picked holes in the selves and the cigarette burns on the arms? Could I wear my tight jeans that rub just above my belly button without screaming in frustration and itching my skin until it bleeds? An illusion of freedom perhaps is what I mean.
If I were “normal”, would I still be able to know exactly when my friends are feeling sad? Or would that awareness suddenly disappear? Would their emotions no long stick out to me like brightly coloured neon signs flashing in a darkened alley? Would I no longer be able to help them calm down before they blow up, or be their long-withstanding shoulder to cry on?
I often wonder, mostly inside my head.
Would I want to be "normal"?