i wish i were normal
do normal things when i go out
being attracted to normal people
i wish the way I dress sometimes were normal
i wish for my expressions to be common,
to see the world as it truly is
to have normal dreams,
and a normal state of mind
making me a confortable person to keep around
and a perfectly normal person for being loved.

I have two facts for you that exist in my mind -
1. I am normal
2. I do not 'feel' normal
I have never considered myself to be normal.
I knew i wasn't normal when at the age of eight after my Dad left my school hired a counsellor just for me,
and i wasn't normal how after then i was the only pupil to be from a single parent family.
I wasn't normal when just after this abandonment my body entered early puberty,
and so feeling weird didn't stay a feeling, it became a reality.
Picked on for things out of my control, i felt like a freak.
Even at the age of eight, every aspect of my identity was up for scrutiny.
I knew i wasn't normal when in secondary school i would purposely get detentions
to spend time with teachers, because the the turmoil of the school yard was a teenage no man's land.
The company of those my own age is something i will never understand.
I knew i wasn't normal when i would hesistate in conversation when someone asked me who i fancied in my class.
The name of a random boy rolled from my tongue in an attempt to not blow my cover.
I knew i wasn't normal when my tweets coming out as bi were passed around like breaking news.
When i tried to defend myself in the interrogations, teachers would sternly say to me -
'That's not appropriate to be talking about in school' like my sexuality was a hushed secret, even though the straight girls were never silenced.
I knew i wasn't normal when i had to say i was bi, when in fact this was a lie. A lie to help me pass, pass and hold on to some straight privilege.
At the age of sixteen i questionned my worth and value as a person, trying to blame myself for the treatment i was subjected to.
I knew i wasn't normal when i decided to place my emotional pain onto a physical space, then patching up the damage as a form of ironic self-care.
I left school for a college, desperately seeking freedom from the constraints of a Catholic school.
I never felt comfortable in sixth form, being there my mind felt like a spinning waltzer i was strapped to for two years.
At seventeen i knew i wasn't normal when i was prescribed the maximum dose of sertraline, then mirtazapine, venlafaxine, fluoxetine.
By this point in my life i was on a tally of maybe six counsellors and two CBT therapists.
I knew i wasn't normal when i started to blame myself for the therapy not being successful. Maybe i was just meant to be depressed.
Changing my thinking styles, emotional regulation, journalling my feelings and triggers, i knew exactly what i had to do.
I knew i wasn't normal when i clung onto certin things as comfort, like my adoration for florence and the machine.
I started to experiment, toying between wanting to fit in and wanting to be myself, painting bright eyeshadow on my lids as a vibrant mask to carry me through.
I knew i wasn't normal when i reached out to the local crisis team experiencing auditory hallicinations, hearing sounds only meant for my ears.
My emotional states are a product of my trauma, which is difficult to navigate as the world's greatest performer.
Maybe i was meant to face this internal torment, or until now i hadn't considered i could be neurodivergent.

My belonged freedom
Has no longer vision

And it's beautiful
How everything falls
In the rythm of chaos
I don't know reality

We are seeing as machines
with no feelings
with just pretensions
And then just fall

Why does anyone don't notice?
How disturbingly normal is this
Maybe they like their masks
It's safe and empty

Just like a machine

kids are repulsive
people are repulsive
I wanna die

“Normality” people cry
And I can’t help but ask
Why?
A slave to the wage
Already trapped in a cage
What is it about life before
That you are all grieving so much for?
The freedom of which you speak
Having to book a holiday for a ******* week

Yes I miss a warm embrace
I want him here kissing my face
Technology overload
So ***** I’ll explode
Yet somehow I know
That back to ‘normal’
Is not where I want to go

When this is over
You’ll book that holiday
And take the next flight
To some far away place
To have the same sun
On your face
Then back to your cage
A slave to the wage

This simulation was not a success
Mother Nature cries
You’re all a ******* mess
She’s given you a chance
A time to pause
To reflect
To ponder
To dream
Yet you dare not ask
What does all this mean?

Do you sit there and wait
For world leaders
To decide your fate?
Will you choose to do good?
To have compassion for those
Where isolation is all they know?
Locked away behind bars
With their trauma and their scars
Out of site
Out of mind
They’ve been left behind

When this is over
I’ll ask myself the question
What do I yearn for?
And the answer will be
As it’s always has been
Freedom
From normality