I’m not normal. Never have been and never will be. But that’s how that’s supposed to be, isn’t it? Who is actually “normal?” How do you define something that is different for every single human being on this planet?
I sat on the couch practically bouncing off. I check my phone again, the third time in the minute. Where was he? He said 6 and here we were, 6:05. I lean back to see out the window and Mom chuckles at me softly.
I feel the chains surrounding me and my world
A sense of pride fills me as I watch the men in navy blue march past. I know none of them, but I have my own. I’m blinded for a moment by the light dancing off the shining metals and pins, recognizing several. I remember all his stories from growing up and smile beside myself.