Most days I wish I was normal like everyone else. So that I could get in line with the rest of you, and be grateful for another day I get to don the layers necessary to go out into the world and interact. Then I could be happy with the idea of breathing, and simply making it through to another night of rest.
But I can’t. Something inside won’t let me. So I take drugs to help me get there. And even though I feel them coursing through my veins, and swirling around in my brain, my heart has a gait of its own.
And it never lets me go.