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.