I have good days, stretches of them even,
And stand at the top of my world.
But then a fleeting thought passes
And tips me off the ledge
Into the swallowing abyss
And I berate myself
For thinking I could conquer it.
I keep expecting a magic cure--
One that heals the scars
That never felt their wounds.
I keep thinking one day I will be normal.
And I die a little more when normal stretches
That much further away.

I'm staring up the walls of this abyss
As I tumble down to a depth I've never known.
I close my eyes in surrender,
But my soul, in the midst of its despair, revolts.

I challenge the force of gravity as I fall
With one simple thought:
What is normal?

Gleaming, undented shining armor?
Pristine closets with no skeletons?
A person who is whole and unbroken?

I will never be unbroken again.
The stories I've chosen not to share hide the skeletons that broke me.
I will never be whole as I once was.
The scars that line my arm bear testament to that fact.

And that...
That is normal,
For every human has their own
Definition of normal.

The fall suspends and I'm in the Fifth Dimension.
And suddenly I know I'm in control.
I'm in control because whoever I am is normal.

I open my eyes and I'm back on the top of my world.