Normal

I was raised to be myself.

The walls dripped with support,

to grow up in a house where laughter echoed through

shaking the foundation.


I was raised to respect oneself.

Not taking crap from anyone,

including myself.

Even though that one is still hard to accept.


I was raised in a house where love was my example.

It was more likely that I would come downstairs and find my parents making out,

than arguing.


This is normal.

I thought.

But it's not.


My friends would often talk about their parents,

threats of divorce, or their arguing all night.

This was their normal,

and it was foreign to me.







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