What does being normal mean to me?
If I’m being honest, I don’t really know. Even though I always wanted to be normal, my idea of normality is quite vague. I think I mostly wanted to fit in, to be able to do what everyone else takes for granted. I thought that if I was normal, if I was like everyone else, maybe I wouldn’t be so miserable all the time. But since my imaginary girlfriend is making me write this as homework for our ‘do it yourself therapy’, I’m obviously not the best person to speak on this particular subject.
In my eyes, normal people have friends to talk to instead of being alone all the time. They wouldn’t starve if left alone with some money and just go buy something to eat. They would be able to answer the person on the street asking for directions instead of having a panic attack and running away. Normal people don’t get anxious when someone glances their way, they look straight ahead when walking rather than just at their feet. Normal people don’t think ‘I hate you’ whenever they themselves in the mirror. Normal people don’t go to sleep hoping to find that their entire life was just a bad dream. Normal people don’t go to sleep wishing they won’t wake up. Normal people don’t need an imaginary friend to make life fun, to make it bearable.
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My idea of being normal is the exact opposite of who I am.
I used to want to be normal so badly, but lately I want it less and less. Ami made being different a lot better than it used to be. I don’t think it's normal to go to sleep wishing she will still be there when I wake up, but I’m fine with that. I don’t think it’s normal to just want to be alone with her all the time, but I’m fine with that. I don’t think it’s normal to hope that she starts whispering “I love you” to me because she got bored in class, but I’m fine with that.
That’s why I was really surprised when the thought that I can never be normal hit me so hard. I thought I came to terms with being different. I still wanted to be able to do some of the things everyone else takes for granted, but it was because she wanted to do them.
That memory that made me feel so awful not so long ago evokes no emotion in me right now, even though so little has changed since that happened. I didn’t become normal all of a sudden, most of the things I wrote here still apply to me. But that memory feels distant, like it happened to someone else and I can’t quite relate to it. I wonder what that means?
