I don’t want to be normal

I gasped with surprise when a coworker stated with certainty, “The worst thing to tell you is that you’re normal.”

When I was 11, my 6th grade English teacher declared a motto to us. Looking back, she probably was under 30 instead of the ancient adult age that I saw. Red hair, bright eyes…a desire to change the world with the class. She often talked about her neighbors in her apartment building. She cared the most, I remember.

And most vividly, I remember her saying, “Don’t be normal, be different.”

I buried it within me. To be normal was an aberration. To be different was to be better. Every day, I sought to be someone who didn’t blend it, who tried to be different.

What a conflict of interest wen sometimes all I wanted was to be accepted.

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