Thursday, December 16, 2010

On Normal

"Phoebe, why are you here?"

"Look. I think about Alice falling. And I look down, and I get scared."


"I don't want to do those things or say those things. I just have to. Except here. Everywhere else, I feel ugly.

"I want to tell you something, which may not make any sense, but I should say it just so that one day you might remember it, and maybe it will make you feel better. At a certain point in your life, probably when too much of it has gone by, you will open your eyes and see yourself for who you are--especially for everything that made you so different from all the awful normals. And you will say to yourself, 'But I am this person.' And in that statement--that correction--there will be a kind of love."

"I'm so scared."

"We all are."

So often, I look at myself and compare what I see to everyone else. All my differences and imperfections stand out. I find myself wanting so much to be "normal." I want to be like everyone else. I don't want to be different. I live my life fearing and hating those abnormalities that set me apart from everyone else. Like Phoebe, I think about how bad it is, and I get scared. And there aren't many safe places--places where it's ok for me to not be normal.

Who was it that defined all those awful normals? Did he just sit down one day and spell it out, then proclaim that everything else was unacceptable?

Someday, I want to open my eyes and see myself for who I am. I want to accept my differences. I want to correct myself and say, "But I am this person."

"I'm so scared."

"Are you always supposed to feel hope?"