The need to be normal is the predominant anxiety disorder in modern life. —Thomas Moore, Original Self
I can feel the wind howling at me, it was all good. If the weather agreed with my inner ranting, then I could say that I was virtually sane.
“I’m saying this because a lot of people are thinking this. Why should I give to her when I have to work 9 to 5 and she gets to travel?”- a family said.
“I’m working too you know. I’m working everyday”- I said.
Does my pieces of art that took me a month to complete mean nothing to the world? Does my writing, my ranting, my art mean nothing compared to staring at a screen in an office all day? Does my longing for beauty mean that I’m lazy, irresponsible, and a complete idiot?
I sat staring at my coffee, trying to hold back my tears but only hearing the song “maybe you were born with it”. I can’t help that I was born with a vagina or that I have always had this crazy obsession with the outcasted, lonely, weird people. I can’t help that at the age of 14 I wanted to travel the world and obliterate human trafficking; I wanted to run into homes where women were being beaten senseless and bring justice and healing to them.
After the car started, I wanted to weep. I wanted to yell and so I did. I yelled “MOTHERFUCKER!!!” and then I thought “do you know how many times I prayed that God would take me, or how many times I prayed that I would be normal, have normal desires for a normal life. Do you know how many times I wished upon a star that I wasn’t chosen, that I was just a normal person that could marry young and have kids and age and die? Do you know how many times I wish I didn’t have these abnormal desires to save little children, change the world and be someone really famous and incredible?”
I can’t help that I’m abnormal you know?
And it’s not like I like not having discretionary income. I mean no one enjoys not being able to buy things. So I guess you can only ask yourself, well then why the hell are these crazy people living the way they are- because we really can’t be anyone else dude.
I was encouraged when I saw these cacti today. They were so beautiful, yet they hardly need any water. They can survive the toughest drought and so can artists who see beauty where there is none.