Throwback Thursday: What is normal?

I wrote this back in 2006, so I was 15... I think it was for an English class. I don't really remember all the details, but I enjoyed the topic. =)

What is Normal?

As children we aspire to stand out, but as teenagers we beg to blend in. We plead to be considered “normal” by mediocre standers. One question must be asked. What is “normal”?

            It is a mocking reality that we at tender ages could see what we are now blinded to. A kindergartener always has Mommy put her pretty picture on the refrigerator, but a teen plays dumb just so they won’t be labeled a “nerd”. It is as if we are born wise but allow ourselves to regress due to society’s stupidity.

            The wisdom from our childhood permitted us, consciously or not, to comprehend the complexity of normal through naïve eyes. As time passed, we learned the dictionary definition of normal and even allowed ourselves to put characteristics to it, but we let ourselves lose our innate insight in this intricate quality. What we perceived then that we are now ignorant to is that normal does not exist.

            We all can define it. We each can paint a picture of it. The question, though, is how many of these portraits will even resemble another. Since we all have unique images of what normal is, then whose is correct? Which normal is normal?

            Back when I was not much more than a rug rat like my favorite cartoon characters, when my gentle eyes were still glazed with innocence, I wanted red hair, auburn or strawberry blond to be exact. I wanted blue eyes, bright blue eyes the color of the sky. I wanted to be left handed. I wanted to be different.

            I blinked. Now I’m nineteen years old. My hair is now blonder not redder. My eyes are standard hazel. I’m still a righty. Even though I am fortunate enough not to have completely lost my immature views on things such as normal, I find myself conforming. I fight it. Normality can be viewed as a big black hole, not even light can escape it. You will lose yourself in it.

            We must regress in age to enhance in insight. Now look upon this mere utterance and see what is not there. Normal may be me, it may be you. It is an essence labeled by ones imagination.

            Normal can be defined as a setting on a washing machine or, as it is in Webster’s dictionary, conforming to the usual standard, type, or custom. Since every individual holds their own characterization of normal, giving it no standard, normal is ironically so very not normal.