Normal people. They have been described in so many ways and we all have our own ideas of what normal is. My idea of normal people is surrounding me at this very moment. I'm here in Arizona, Gilbert to be exact. It's a small suburb of the city. Everything is fairly new including the neighborhoods, shopping areas, freeways and roads, parks and eateries. People here keep regular hours. People wake up early, have breakfast, read the paper and go to work. The stores close early. There is a regular rush hour traffic which lasts about 3 hours after which time people return home to their families, eat dinner, maybe watch a little TV and then go to bed...around 10:00pm. Everyday here I see mothers taking their kids to various practices, lessons, etc. I see homes decorated for the season. People wave. Doors don't really need to be locked. In fact, you can take the dog around the block, watch the local kids at the skate park behind the house for a while, lie down under a grapefruit tree and contemplate life and not give a single thought to worrying about whether or not you even shut the door. Normal.
I feel like I may be the only person still awake. I am far from this kind of normal. I see all these things and wonder if all of these people are truly happy. Are they in some kind of special group that received the memo...you know, the one with instructions on how to have a happy and fulfilling life? Do they have it all figured out? Am I just fooling myself and on some kind of psycho mission to "make all my dreams come true". At this moment, I'm not sure I could say for certain what my dreams are anymore. So, you're probably reading this and thinking this chick is crazy. And, well, I won't contest it. I change my mind and have a different emotion every 15 minutes. Is this typical of someone nearing 30. I honestly thought I would have my life figured out by now. Somewhere I know I fit in to this intricately woven tapestry. Big city life, fast paced and scattered...small city with Halloween carnivals and perfectly convenient shopping centers. Will it even really matter where I live?
One day at a time is how I fear I may be living the rest of my life.
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