This poem could be an open letter
to state my grievance against my present
Why can’t I lead a normal life?
You know, the ones you see in movies
or on TV shows where it always ends well
rather than going on and on and
always having pitfalls?
the ones others seem to pretend to live
with happy faces
and full dining tables
with music blaring through the speakers
every morning
while everyone dances around
happy and smiling
and weirdly energetic?
or maybe laid back quietly
with a bunch of friends
with whom you can talk about anything
and laugh your way through
even the end of the world?


Why can’t I have a normal life?
where I do not have to worry about
who did what and what is wrong
with the world,
where people just cry because they are
overwhelmed with joy or touched
by someone’s kindness
rather than on misunderstandings
that seem to crop up without anyone’s fault
but are hard to ever make up and explain?
Why can’t I have a normal life?
Where my heart doesn’t seem to hurt
every time I come out of my fantasy world
and realize that things have become way worse?
But what is normal anyway?
Someone once said our nightingales sing
our scars
and memories are made of love and war
So maybe this roller-coaster of a life
is all we have
and that is why we cherish the little
happy moments that seem to
mistakenly land on our laps.
And who said anyway that normal
was made of rainbows and unicorns
and smiles that seem pasted
on a doll-like face?
Is being normal overrated?