Writer: Shahi Ezzeldin
Editor: Doaa Saady
At some point in your life, one day you’re going to wake up to realize you’re not the prettiest girl in the world like your mother said. Nor you are the prettiest in her eyes; you were only a pretty girl. Not the most, not the least, just adequately appealing. You are going to realize that there is no perfect stranger to be held in your encounter and lock eyes with your piercing ones. That your eyes themselves aren’t compelling honey pools or piercingly caramelized. Just brown. Basic dark brown.
You probably won’t be living your romantic fantasies. Most likely the man you’ll lead to an altar won’t be your soul mate. You aren’t going to set a pattern to the relationship goals and will live a normal life with a simple family, that the most exciting thing in your mere quality time together would be a movie night.
That the concepts you believed in and fiercely fought for will be negligible in the grand scheme of your hectic life. That you will settle for okay and less than okay. That your ethical principles will be sabotaged by communal expectations. That you’ll blend into a routine, a dull, typical routine.
That your life is a basic, normal, simple venture to a continual cycle that never seems to be coming to an end.
But it’s also normal to never settle for okay just for the ship to keep moving. It’s normal to release the anchor, to reread your compass and navigate the narrows. Not just give in to the destination where the waves are carrying you.
It’s normal that your heart pulsates when attaining the pride of your self-esteem. It’s normal that your blood infuriates when underestimated for the stereotype of your sex and society. It’s normal that you’ve got cars on your brain. That you’re too engulfed in so many routes which always lead you back to the cross point, where each lane is calling out your name .
It’s normal to give in to the fact that your mind refuses to be bounded by any restrictions that don’t penetrate its wall of logical rationality.
It’s normal to spit out the acidity you were given to swallow by the press.
It’s normal to refuse to be normal. It’s normal to be born above the border line of average and refuse to call the region behind the barrier “home”. It’s normal to forbid the accustomed criteria from taming the natively liberated head of yours. Their attempts will end in vain and their muzzles will rust, for you will never shut up . You will never stop speaking your troubled mind in the most delicate form of art. You’ll refuse to harmonize to their submissive symphony. You were destined to write your own music. And till then, your ears are deaf to any monotonousgenre.
Our lives are territories of various normalcies. You decide your normal.
