I have always hated being normal. The word “normal” was synonymous to boring, commonplace and irritating for me. I loved everything strange, slightly crazy and eccentric. When I was three, I enjoyed going to my nursery play group, wearing socks of different colors belonging to different pairs and the sunglasses which only had one glass. It seemed so natural to me that I did not even consider if it was right or wrong. And luckily, people around me took it for granted.
However, when I started going to school, I got into a real brain control machine. My primary school teacher loved “normal” kids: everything had to be neat and orderly, no eccentricity, no unauthorized behavior. But a little devil in my head turned out to be a creature full of determination. Not only did he survive, but became stronger and more cheerful. He made me be loved by the classmates and hated by the teachers.
But, unfortunately, I am growing older. And the older I become, the weaker the devil is. His little voice is becoming quieter and I only occasionally here him whispering in my ear a new idea of how to make fun. And I know that if one day he disappears completely, I will lose a part of my individuality and become normal. The only thought makes me shudder. And that is why I still dye my hair pink, sing while riding my bike and go dancing in the first spring rain.
We only live while the little devil in our head makes us do stupid, childish, but funny and sincere things. When he goes away, we simply exist.