Define Normal

  April 11th, 2010 by Violet Blake

I don’t know who I am. Who does know who they are? My guess is no one really does, they just pretend like they do so no one else will see that they don’t know, and are scared of remaining unknown to themselves.
I thought I knew who I was. Pretty little Violet with a name fit for a rose, who loved to write, read, and just be by herself most of the time. I don’t know anymore. Ever since I started the tenth grade it’s as if everything I knew about myself has just been erased from my mind and I have to start over, trying to find the millions of puzzle pieces of myself that seem to be lost out in the great oblivion.
“Is that normal?” I’ve been asking myself that a lot of lately. Is it normal to not be able to sleep, to have nightmares about something in your past that happened years ago? Is it normal to hate people, to never want to leave your house and the comfort of your stories and books, even though your a sixteen year old girl? Is it normal to love traveling to other worlds just by reading the words on a page, forgetting for awhile that you’re depressed and alone in reality. is it normal to want to create your own world because you know the characters you dream up are the only ones you trust enough to keep your company, because imaginary people can’t let you down.
Well, is it?
I don’t really think there is an effective answer to this question, because NO ONE is normal. But I don’t really believe that, either. I don’t think I’m normal, I don’t think its normal to hate the company of real people, to want to stay hidden from the world outside, even though you know you could be out doing something productive (because writing books isn’t at all productive)
But I don’t know, I’ve never known.
Define Normal.

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