The Final Call

"Define Normal?"

Define Normal?

...

"Normal is for people without any courage."

August 28th, 2018. After years of being reminded of my weird, unusual self, "You're not normal" slowly started to become my favorite phrase. The irony was within the phrase; how people let people build a concept without even understanding. "What does it mean to be normal?" I asked my therapist as she sat there like a casual tourist in her own apartment. She fidgeted with the pen in her hair for a good couple seconds and then let out a chuckle that slowly faded into the atmosphere. Scared or lost? I asked him and he smiled back, "a dreary illusion; a broken image. An artist lost in character. It's life without color." What was this norm that I had been chasing for years? Why was it so necessary to hold onto it; to be like 8 billion that merged into the crowd? Why can't I let go of it? It's a system we all work for that attracts us towards achieving a conception that exists only as a thought; it works like a charm.

"Normal is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly."

Transitions played a huge role in restoring my faith. He held my arm and acted as my support as my scars felt like part of me. Stories with morals and promises stitched through them. "Never again mama" He'd say as his heart would sink in the space between us and go mellow. His eyes would tear up holding back a river. Never again. There is something about sitting in a plane going 776 mph, 7695 miles away from home that highlights all your breaking points. Sweet sobs settle as the plane takes off. I feel comfortable with this version of me.

"It's gets better"

They've reminded you of all the times the sun decided to hide amidst your soul. When the sky stretched out in half above your head. When the stars decided to fall on you and disappear. They were there to remind you of every stroke of luck that's got a bleed through. Yet no one told you that the light will break through. I woke in a stranger's bed with a smile on my face. This wasn't what home was, yet it felt like it. Ivory coated walls with old furniture and the smell of freshly made tamales.

I remember going downtown with my uncle to get his first tattoo. He was red in expression and you could tell his heart was racing. He looked down, tears welling up in his eyes. "It's gets better" it read. He smiled and said, "It's not how we make mistakes, but how we correct them that defines us." To those words, we both chuckled. He never got it removed and to this day it reminds him of all the mistakes he's made. How can one smile to a concept he couldn't follow. Where I cry, he makes a joke of it.

Everything from that point was vivid. I had an understanding of life here and above. I knew how to agree and promote my thoughts to build on. My heart and my mind had agreed on working as a team. I had learned to generate a thought beyond this concept. The norm that I had been chasing was undefinable; non-existant to the highest degree.