It's 2 am and I am wide awake. Pictures on my walls are suddenly quite interesting as I get lost in my thoughts, my busy mind. I sit and contemplate life as a whole...wondering why I long for a definition that has no backing, no authority. "Normal" I speak out loud. A word with a million definitions, none of which can truly define each individuals perception. The meaning of the word changes without warning, condemning me for my lack of ability to follow the rules with ease...flawless precision. I should be able to know the way normal will be at each step in my journey...my lack of adaption only further proving my distance, showing me how out of reach it remains. I hang my head low, ashamed at my inability to be perfect...to be wanted...to be seen. I don't need anyone else to point it out or to punish me...God knows I do a better job of that then any other person ever could.
Then I start to wonder, after years and years of failure, if the bridge I have searched for all my life doesn't exist. I wonder if this illusive place, this beautiful destination, has ever been achieved...and if it has, is it as wonderful as the advertisement claims to be? I begin to wonder if I have been reaching for something that is beyond my ability to grasp. I wonder if my lack of ability to become who I NEED to be isn't due to a lack of effort or talent or love or desire.... I simply wonder if my inability to find normal is that much like the wizard in the land of oz...it doesn't really exist. Could I be expending so much energy searching for an imaginary destination that I am missing out on reality, true life...messy, unique, out of order and upside down at times...but a tangible place where my story can be made beautiful.
A pink balloon...tied to my wrist...its beauty captivating. It remains in the air above me with every turn and twist in the road. At times the wind will push it away but the string is tied so tightly that I can always pull it back in, allowing myself to fixate once more on its magical presence. The problem is that its helium will only last for a short time. It's life so to speak short lived. I could spend my life with a balloon tied to my wrist, always changing balloons before its magic is gone...always trying to conform myself to a life with it tied to my arm, following me wherever i go...following me when its not convenient. Grocery shopping,taking a shower, going to a movie theater...all strangely awkward. But the balloon on my wrist is beautiful and I'm sure it must be worth all its inconveniences...after all, its beautiful.
There comes a day when I face the choice of leaving the balloon behind and embracing reality as it is...without the beauty and magic the balloon brought...or I remain on the other end of the leash. As I slowly untie the string on my arm tears well up in my eyes, there is grief in my loss of what I thought would make me happy. Its hard to let go of something that has been attached to me for so long.I hold my arm out stretched, as high as my fingers can reach...the balloon barely within my grasp...and then in a moment it is gone. The beauty flying high into the clouds...soaring away, dancing in the wind. As tears roll down my face I turn to walk away and am struck by the ease of my movement. I am no longer attached, weighed down. I find that in my letting go...I am free.
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