Normal was never the New Black

                                                      

''Excuse me? Can I fit in? is what she mentally asks as she pushes her way in between the two of them and sits there gaping. Trying to find a perfect word to utter. It's still awkward there. Even today, after a passage of so many months she still feels the unfamiliar breeze when she sits between them. It's as if she could never be one of them. Always in their own world, they probably never considered her a part of it. And she. She always tried so hard to fit in amongst these people. Friends. She wouldn't even bother being discreet anymore.
What a shame.
She'd always tried so hard, thinking she could make a change in the cycle. But somehow, they never reciprocated. Not the way she expected them to.

There used to be days when she would go home and cry to sleep. Or just walk away before she would dissolve into tears. But today, it was better and she could cry tears of pride.''

Fitting in. I hate the whole concept to the face of it. I am sure we weren't born to fit in!! We were born to be ourselves. To let our wings out and fly in the open, discovering beyond daily horizons, grasping before it slips and letting go for what's awaiting.
But, hey that sounds so much cooler than it is in reality. In reel life, it's a dream. A dream that reaches us wide awake and doesn't gawk at us. In reel life it has a meaning of it's own, a meaning that reaches all hearts and fixes itself in every brain, endowing them with a whole lot of positive energy. But when we are smacked open to the caressing morning warmth, stepping into our daily routine brings about the some thoughts and explosives we cannot change. When we're here, we're here to be like them. Moreover, to be a part of them.
None of us have been a fan of fitting in. Yet, for some it seems to flow in their blood and for some it's an ache.
It's always about trying to fit in. Fitting in your jeans. Fitting in the list of the top 10 scholars. Fitting in the last piece of puzzle. Fitting your clothes in one suitcase. Fitting in last year's dress. Fitting in as a cool kid. Fitting in with the boozers. Fitting in while talking. Fitting in with clothes. Fitting in the right shoe size. Fitting the right cap on the bottle. Finding the right haircut to fit in. Fitting, fitting, fitting!
What’s funnier is how through the whole process of fitting in we hurt others and sometimes ourselves.
       We want to be 'normal'. Whatever that is. The oxford dictionary says, ''conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected.''
We'll try to be how everyone in our family has been. We'll try to be how are friends are. We'll try to be how the world is and what it expects of us. We'll go with the flow. And that's pathetic. PATHETIC.
And I think it sucks. Sucks for those who are trying so hard and nobody ever sees it.

But I think it's an indication. It's the God's horses screaming to us. We will all try to fit in, because you know what, it doesn't work that way. One can't be born to swim against the water. It's something we learn. The aeroplane is built to take off against the wind.

Similarly, if you're pushing too hard, it's probably time you realise that this isn't what you're meant for. You're meant to be outstanding. And it's time to let go now. 
Fitting in is not the ultimatum. Because if it was, then Cindrella's shoe wouldn't fall off. 

Chasing

                                    

She was sniffing the coolness in the air, with the cigarette in her hand. Was it even possible to sniff the coolness in the air. She was smoking, for god's sake! Forget it. She told herself. This habit is not washing off too quickly. She's scratched the most delicate part of her senses and there's no way she can bring back the polish again. No way. At all. Her legs idly moving in constant rhythm to each other.

    One more puff, and out again.

Yes, it has become a daily thing. Could she not retreat. She was repulsed   by herself. By this version of herself that she'd become. The one that didn't even exist. But, it did. It did exist. She looked down at her own hands. They looked pretty once upon a time.. But why didn't they now? To an ordinary person they still would, maybe. But to her, they had been scarred. Scarred with unfathomable days and months that had brought her here. She was sore from inside. And no book was to help her escape this. No night's high could make her omit the feelings for a lifetime.

And yet she had such conversations daily. Such moments of self-realisation where she sought to find a way to pull her put of this numb guilt. And when she was almost there, she would be pushed back to square one just like all the other times because that coward within her would shriek, ''You fell down while climbing the mountain once, how will you climb back up again with the wounds still fresh?''.

She was moving around, floating to lands wherever, sometimes in her dreams. And it was beauty. Absolute perfection. Here, she saw everything with different eyes. Eyes that were not rotting from her heart. Heart? It's a body organ. Its work is to pump blood. Yeah, she's a science kid. Still, she would creep into the church sometimes and confess. Because it would lighten her heart.

She coughed. Lighten the heart? If only there was a theory proving that no such equation existed.

Today she was going to try harder. She was going to fight with herself. Why today? She doesn't know. She never will. Ripping through the covers that instilled darkness in her bubble, she dropped the cigarette stub. And looked behind at the door. The door she was going to swing open and fall, if that's what it would cost to reach out and stand under the sun. Too much had been charred away. Too much.

We all have habits we would rather not. It's about taking that 'rather not' and respecting it. If that's how you feel, then don't let the otherwise overwhelm you.