Being Normal

Today, a dear friend of mine asked me when it became out of fashion to just be "normal". It was the most thought-provoking question I'd heard in a long time because in truth, I don't even know what "normal" is anymore. But I sure as Hell know what it isn't.

Know this: I am rarely shocked by the atrocities that one member of the human race can commit upon another. It is sad but true. But I am always horrified by it. Especially the crimes perpetrated under the guise of love. Those wolves that lay in wait and don the sheep's clothing.

I had to call a mom today, and I had to tell her something about her daughter, something that had already shattered her family beyond recognition, something that she already knew. And although she already knew all the things spilling from my mouth, I still managed to wreck her with my words and poke my fingers into a wound that will not heal in a thousand lifetimes. When her voice hit that first unmistakable crack, my heart broke in half. She was falling apart, and I wanted to as well, but in that moment, it's just not very professional to fall apart yourself.

I held on somehow for a few more minutes, and managed to hang up the phone before I crumbled. I don't know how, but I did. In that moment, all of my indignant rage, all of my well-deserved and much-needed anger that normally shoots through me vanished. It fled my body. I was left with a nothingness that pissed me the fuck off. Normally, I would yell or scream or kick the shit out of some inanimate object. I would scream and cuss and rage against the unfair world and faceless God who would allow such a fucked up thing to exist, and now I couldn't.

All I could do was weep.

Ordinarily, I might see this girl once in a day. Maybe twice. Today, however, she was everywhere I turned, and I had no clue how to speak to her or look at her without totally losing my shit. But somehow, I did. Because when someone is just trying to hold on, to live their life without losing their shit, it's just not very professional to lose yours.