Have you ever wanted to be normal? That it was something you were good at, not only that, but something you could excel at. That every birthday, every shooting star, every eleven eleven on the clock, you wished for it, hoping it would come true.

         Normalcy.

         You wake at 7 AM, in your own bed, on a planet that awoke you with sunshine through your window. Have a healthy breakfast: eggs, bacon, toast, then off to school to go, all throughout your childhood and teenage years. Moving up the grades. Meeting new friends. Finding popularity. Having the perfect life with two parents, a sibling or two or three, and maybe even a dog or cat as well. Sleeping by nine at night and doing it all over again the next day; dreaming sweet dreams. Getting a job and earning an income when you come to that age, somewhere around 14. Maintaining a decent figure to attract the perfect guy or girl until you realize that he or she is the one; settling down after university, getting a place, getting a ring, and growing old. Together. Then passing within your 80s, 90s, or living up to 100. Being grateful that whatever happened, it lasted. Being proud to have lived among a species so intelligent and protective, protective of a planet so pure.

         As opposed to constantly sleeping late or not sleeping at all—on a bed, a couch, or maybe even the ground. Never seeing the light of a sunrise but always the trails of a sunset. Skipping breakfast and moving straight to lunch. Eating junk food or microwavable meals rather than sandwiches that give your body a perfect nutritional deal. Going to school, finding it harder, harder to find your friends, to find a sense of belonging, then giving up on social life and committing to a career. Except that your desired career feels impossible to study for. But what else can you do? Living with one parent, an aunt, uncle, or relative, and if you’re extremely lucky all of the above. Not having the ability to own any pets because maybe your financial status isn’t what it should be. Not to mention the medication you got prescribed by your doctor that it seems no one else around you are taking—because their lives are just perfect compared to yours; they have no need for them! From sleeping pills, to drugs that fight anxiety, anti-depressants, dietary supplements, et cetera. Maybe half of them don’t even work sufficiently, so you stop taking them. Because whether or not they’re in your system, it doesn’t help you with finding jobs or passing interviews to earn an income or more. Waiting years after years, slowly losing hope for a better outcome. Oh, and your body image? Maybe you aren’t one of those people that have that annoying flabby fat, but you wish your body was shaped in other ways. Slim, toned, hourglass, square.

         Why must everything seem so unfair?

         How can you ever expect to find the perfect they or them? You don’t see that happening any time soon—or maybe you can. Maybe you’ve found the one, yeah? Oh, but here comes COVID. Suddenly, you must talk on the phone only, but amongst social distancing, this feels catastrophic. You grow distant, hesitant, not believing in your future. Rather, you die in your 50s, 60s—separated.

         And as if reality couldn’t get any worse, there’s also mental health to worry about too. Childhood trauma, adolescent eating disorders, being an alcoholic, or soon-to-be drug user before 21. Limiting your years, killing yourself faster so you wouldn’t have to live on a planet so disastrous. Full of pollution, toxicity, global warming, animal extinction, rising population, need the list go on?

         And our species has the audacity to call ourselves superior.

         So which of these lives to you want? Which of them is closer to the one you live? Are you grateful for how far you’ve come and what you have? Or ashamed of what could’ve been? Chances are many of us can’t relate to the first desire of normality, but it’s that we crave. A world that isn’t grey. A world that’s happy, healthy, shoves sun in our faces, and says, “I’m proud of you, I’m glad you’re here, you’re doing great things to keep me safe.”

         Maybe it’s unrealistic. Rather than being told of such praise or kindness, that voice says differently. It says it isn’t. It’s not proud, it’s furious. It ties you to a chair and asks you questions: “Why can’t you abide to our expectations or supply us with your needs? What successes do you own? What failures do you breed? Why aren’t you good enough? Why won’t you fit in?” And if you don’t answer, that’s it.

         But you’re not the only one who suffers like this; I promise you that.

         People wonder why others are depressed, why suicide rates increase, why problems catastrophize, or people smoke, drink, or do evil misdeeds.

         This is why.

         People perform too high and receive too little, in the efforts to meet society’s needs, as if those needs are nothing but great. We’re machines that don’t feel or breathe, don’t receive encouragement, compassion, or the drive to keep going—but that’s what we need. Without such, we feel the need to seek freedom from things unaware. Some of us dissociate, begin to not care. Normalcy, perfection, and the triumph of standing tall and fair, isn’t programmed into our systems like we’re encased in steel. Maybe that’s a good thing. Right? Maybe it’s good we’re not born with the ability to be perfect.

         Because we’re not built on wires and code.

         We’re human.

         Let’s start acting like it.