A cold vibe passed right through me. That vibe was like a last goodbye kiss from my parents. I felt them going. I felt them leaving this world and achieving solitude in the endless sky.
I didn’t speak for years. I blamed no one. It was an accident, pretty unfortunate one. But I was not able to recover from it.
The world expects a normal from people. What is normal behavior? According to people following the mainstream is considered normal. A normal behavior was expected from me too. For whom? For people in the world. People who judged me. World which was ruthless.
But my mom always used to tell me “Don’t fake. Be original. Be true to yourself”. How could I fake the normal behavior. But my uncle did.
He took me with him. Obviously, it was expected from him. I was all alone. It was his duty to take care of me. This was his normal behavior. He and his family used to pretend they cared. But they didn’t. I always thought “if they don’t want me, why are they keeping me?”. Maybe social conventions guided them not their inner self. They were forced to keep me.
They call me “mentally unstable”. Yes, I am not stable. I am not normal. I am not able to recover.
Being normal is subjective and relative. Subjective to opinion and relative to other people. Opinion and other people don’t matter to me until I have those sweet and cherished memories of my parents.
Maybe I don’t want to be normal.
