abnormality

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*tw: self hatred, disability mention*

normality is a term that i'll
never truly understand
i can never be normal, not ever.
i've lost my sense of normality years ago.
i'm an anomaly,
a strange being who's sick
in both the head and body,
and i will never know
what it's like to be normal.
a normal, fully-functioning human being —
something i'm not sure that i am anymore.

what is it, to be normal?
to be okay?
it's all that i want, it's all that i want —
and i'll never know what it's like.

i can't walk normally, not like everyone else.
my body aches more frequently than
most people my age.
i simply can't compare to them.
normal people don't ache
each time they move or do
normal things that
normal people do with ease.
(i don't even know what normal is anymore.)

i can't even really sob normally.
i'm unable to cry out, wail, or shriek.
i've been quiet for so long
in fear of being heard
that my sobs are always silent.
and whenever i let out the slightest squeak,
i scold myself and become emotionless.

that's one of the times
where i flip the switch.
in these moments, i'm automatic.
i'm robotic, emotionless, unstoppable.
i feel nothing. nothing can touch or hurt me.
sometimes, i don't even feel things normally.

i've forced myself to be silent for so long that it's hard to admit my feelings normally.
the words are yelled in my head but
my lips fail to open,
fail to let vulnerabilities spill out and reveal all of my weaknesses.

what does it mean, really,
to do anything normally?

normal is a vague term,
a term that will only apply to me
at first glance.
"just a normal girl."
yeah, right.

it's becoming harder and harder
to pretend that i'm normal
because i don't think
i know what
it means.

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