Normal

I've always flirted between thinking that I was uncommonly special or especially common. 

I'm probably one of them. I don't know what else I could be.

There was a time when I thought I may have been some kind of superhero, beginning to discover that I had mutant powers. Nope. Puberty.

I also assumed that everyone was in constant pain. But then I learned that chronic migraines aren't the norm either. 

My parents helped with the mixed signals. I was told I was great and smart, but only after I had a day in which I felt completely normal, if not substandard.

Some people have insecurities and some people have superiority complexes. I suppose my problem is that I'm insecure about whether I should have a superiority complex.

There always felt like there might be some safety in being normal. I used to pray that God would let me be dumb like other kids. I asked my parents if I could watch more TV so I could be like the other kids.

But along with wanting to be like them, I also hated them for what they were because they didn't have my interests. They didn't seem to have interests at all.

I grew out of it, grew out of worrying whether I was something or not. My childhood was something of a dud, spent watching National Geographic Explorer instead of cartoons, too polite to burp the ABCs.

Today, I try not to care. Because if I care too much, I wonder whether it's normal or extraordinary to spend so much time worrying about it. And around I go again.