The first one inspired by “I Can’t draw love, but I know it when I see it” (Thankyou Pete) and the second one was inspired by a line in the first one (I underlined it for you). The first one is kindof weird and I’m not sure what the point of it is but thanks for reading anyway.
What is it like to be normal? I never have been. I’ve always seen things. Seeing other people’s happiness is why I will never be classified as “normal”. When I see someone, I can see their lives.
I see the young writer, who was just published the first time. I smile at the young man, who just had his first kiss. I’m just as proud as the musician I see who is so proud of the work he spent hours perfecting.
I’m seeing Joy. Or at-least, that’s what I think it is. That’s another reason that I don’t fit in; that I am an outcast. I can’t understand this thing that people call emotion. But I’m not sure I want to. It doesn’t seem as good as some people say it is. Because joy isn’t all I see. I can also see, what do you call it? Anguish? Sorrow? Pain? Whatever you call it, it’s everywhere. But I don’t want to feel it. I can almost feel it. I can see it.
It’s in the back-alley where the mother grieves for her lost son. It’s in the parking lot where the perfect relationship ends for no reason. It’s hiding inside the widower in the office, pretending everything is alright.
So that’s probably why I’m not “Normal”, because I’m the only thing without pain in this pain-filled broken world.
When I wake up in the morning, I hop in the shower. Then I’d eat a quick bowl of cereal before rushing upstairs to brush my teeth and grab my back-pack. But I’m not perfect. I forgot to make my bed after my Mom told me too.
I have a specific spot that I sit in on the school bus, just like most of the other kids. I blow bubbles in-between chatting with my friends. And we talk about the same things most of the other boys talk about. You know, normal things. Sports, hobbies and friends. We talk and laugh about how Joe’s 2nd string cornerback for our school, how hard barre chords are on guitar and how Troy’s friend embarrassed himself.
Although I could hang out with them all day, we have to go to school. In math, I pass notes occasionally just like most of the kids do sometimes. I’m not really one to stick out. I got a C in English. But I do have a favorite subject. I like history. But I have to wait until after lunch.
So I grab the same “Mystery-meat-casserole” that all the other kids are forced to try. My eyes scan the lunchroom as I look for Troy and Joe. But I can’t find them so I just sit at a random table. But as I sit down, one of the kids at the table yells at me, “Freak! You can’t sit here your too much of a weirdo! Only normal people can sit here!”
Sigh- highschool drama.