Normal

Today was a rough day. I always told myself I'd live life my own way—so that when I die, I won't regret a thing. If I win, I win. If I fail, I fail. No big deal. But today? Today just sucked.

The day started the same way it always does. Nothing to do, just lying around, staring at the ceiling, waiting for time to pass. My family, worried but mostly annoyed, brought up the topic: They think that since I'm young and have nothing going on, I should at least be studying. They say it like it's some easy fix, like it's just a simple choice I refuse to make. Like I'm just lazy. Like I'm wasting my life on purpose.

The moment they mentioned it, something twisted in my chest. My heart pounded like a drum, my throat got tight. Just the thought of school, of assignments, of that whole system—it makes my skin crawl. It's like my brain rejects it completely, like it short-circuits the moment I try to force myself into that world. I don't know why. I just know I hate it.

I tried to keep quiet, tried to let them say their piece, but I couldn't. The words were boiling up inside me, pressing against my ribs, desperate to escape. And when I opened my mouth, they poured out, raw and unfiltered.

"No, I don't want to go to college."

My mom sighed. My dad gave me that look—the one that says I'm being a child.

"Then what are you going to do?" my dad asked, voice laced with frustration.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Sit here and rot until i die, I guess."

That set them off. I could see it in the way my mom's lips pressed together, the way my dad's jaw clenched. Here comes the lecture.

"You're wasting the time you have," my mom started, her voice softer now, like she was trying to reason with a toddler. "It's just one more year. Then you can do whatever you want."

I scoffed. "And then what? You see how my sisters and others live? They did everything 'right'—college, jobs, the whole package. And they're barely making enough to survive."

"That's why you should study," my dad shot back. "So you can earn more. So you don't end up struggling."

"Earn more doing what?" My voice was rising, but I didn't care. "I have nothing. No support, no connections, no friends. The only thing I have is me. How am I supposed to make money like that?"

"You don't have to worry," my mom said, her tone almost dismissive. "We already have property for you."

"And what? I'm just supposed to live off that? For how long? That's not a plan. That's not a life i want to live."

Silence. They didn't have an answer to that. Or maybe they just didn't think I was worth answering.

"Then what do you want?" my dad asked after a long pause, his voice quieter now.

I swallowed hard. "I want everything. A big house, nice cars, enough money to live however I want."

"And how do you plan on getting that?" His words were calm, but I could hear the challenge in them.

I opened my mouth—then closed it. My throat felt tight. My chest ached.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "That's why I'm here, doing nothing. Because I don't know how."

"Other people enjoy studying," my mom said carefully. "Why can't you?"

I let out a short, bitter laugh. "Because I'm not other people. Do you really think anyone would be okay after growing up like this? Feeling like I had everything but nothing at the same time? And now you suddenly care? Where was this when I actually needed it? Just—just leave me alone."

Their expressions shifted. Concern. Annoyance. Helplessness.

"Do you want to see a doctor?" my mom asked hesitantly.

I said. "No." In annoyances hatred for them for everything.

"Why don't you learn a language like your sister? Maybe move abroad?"

"And then what? Will that magically make me rich? Will that give me the life I want?"

My voice were cracking with each sentence i formed. My face was hot. Tears burned at the edges of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I had to act like I didn't care, like it didn't hurt. But their words, their tone—it felt like they were talking at me, not to me. They didn't get it. They never did.

I hate this. I hate myself.

Emotions are just the byproduct of the situation that you are in. Why can't I just be normal? Why can't I just suck it up and go to school? There's nothing stopping me—except me.

Why am I like this? Why can't I just be normal?

Normal. Normal. Normal. The word rattled around in my head, bouncing off the walls of my mind like a broken record. But no matter how many times I repeated it, no matter how much I wished for it, I knew the truth.

I'd never be normal.