the importance of not being normal
karlina veras
There was a time when I was a good person. I was… I really was.
I kept my promises, I was kind to everyone around. I looked after my dying mother, paid the bills, kept my job...
You know, the usual. I did whatever you would expect from a normal person. I was, probably like everyone else, surviving. And all of it due to a very small, important detail.
Every Tuesday afternoon, at 10 to 4, I would go see Dr. Smith. Nothing out of the ordinary would happen, just the usual. I would lie on the patient’s seat and speak about my fears, insecurities, broken dreams, etc. He would listen.
Towards the end of the session he would give me a cup of water with the usual pill. I never knew what it was, still don’t. All I know is that it sorted me out. And that’s what mattered at the time. I carried on with my boring, routine life, until the next Tuesday when the same happened again.
Right before my eyes, days became weeks, weeks became months and months became years. For years and years I was living in a dead body, without even noticing.
Suddenly one Friday night, while bathing my mother, I started thinking about who I was, what had I become, and why it was so important to be “normal”, whatever that meant. Then a whole bunch of other thoughts came to mind.
Such as: “What’s wrong with me? Is there anything more to this? What is fulfillment? Have I achieved anything or am I just an empty vessel, like a Cylon?”
Just like that, I awoke from the hypnosis of what I thought was my life, so I did what I feared the most. I stopped my Tuesday appointment with Dr Smith.
I stopped taking the pills, I stopped it all. It was a scary. Trust me, you would not like to be there. I went crazy. The first Wednesday came and I was losing my mind. I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t get out of bed. I could hear my mother and everyone
else around shouting, screaming at me. But nothing mattered, nothing but my inner peace matter. I just didn’t have it.
I could see everything I wanted to be so close, yet it was unreachable. I had lost my normality and became real at the same time. Even though I was there, I noticed I belonged somewhere else. Where that is I still don’t know...
All I knew at the time, was I needed and wanted out; and that was enough. I had to. I had to get out of that normal life I was leading and run. So I did. I left everything as it was and ran. I ran for so, so long that my shoes disintegrated and blended with my skin, merging into calluses and blood. I don’t remember the exact period of time this was going on, I just remember it happening. Until one day I decided to stop running and settle within my own heart.
I finally accepted who I really am: a lunatic on the Earth trying to survive. Once I accepted my situation that was it. I finally figured it out.
I didn’t need the pills, the shrink, or anyone else’s approval for that matter. I could finally stand on my own two wobbly feet. And I did and I am on my own two feet now, with a cane, in case I stumble and fall I have something to hold on to.
Here I am. Naked. With only my heart and bones to show. So what if no one approves? They can go fuck themselves for all I care. I am as I am. And I will live my life as that, even if it means losing my mind, just to gain it back again, like a skin changer.
I’m free.
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