In life, there are stories of redemption which I really like. But my favorites have always been those stories where the main character just wants things to be normal. I have always wanted things to be normal, ordinary, and even mundane. A repetitive life of content has gradually become my main goal from God.
I know people who hear this and would respond, "What even is 'Normal'?" The correct answer is obviously there's no definition for normal in a human context. But the correct answer is also, normal does exist. Those who are so aside from the human spectrum could definitely relate to what I am saying.
Normal is not wanting to stick a pipe through your head ear to ear just to shut down voices, or so I think... I envy people who could ride the bus and find it regular, not having to drown themselves in a loud song just to outshout the screams inside their heads.
Normal, I presume, is just being able to sleep for eight hours and not barely six at best once a week, because exhaustion has gotten to you so much that your body physically crumbles, only to leave you stuck in a state of sleep paralysis ever so often.
Normal is not having to anxiously scratch yourself, leaving mini scars all around you because you're so used to cutting yourself but just don't want to answer questions anymore.
You see, normal does exist. It's just not what the word stands for in its literal sense, I guess. Maybe the word is content.
I once saw a father of three shoot himself in the middle of the street. I was about 9 at the time. It's funny, not really, but it really is how that happened. The man, who was in his late thirties, had put all of his money, including inheritance and two pawned houses including the one he lived in, into this project. I think it was something importing Chinese phones and different products. The products were dirt cheap to import and sold for cheap but still made a lot of money. There was no way for him to lose.
Anyway, he got a call telling him that the containers which contained all of his imports had burned at Al-Basra port. Everything he owned, he was told, was burned down. It took him just 28 minutes to make the decision to end his life. I know because I was called into the house to watch the 5 o'clock cartoons when he got the call, and by the time it finished and I walked out, he had killed himself.
28 minutes is all he could wait. I was listening to my father talking with his family and lawyer and from what I remember, and my father confirmed it later, he could have waited until the youngest of his daughters graduated as a doctor. It would have been only ten years, and then he could do what he did. Maybe four years to watch his oldest get married. Or maybe three more minutes before his lawyer would inform him that his product containers were fully insured. Hell, if he had waited until 40 minutes had passed, he'd have learned that it actually was a mix-up and his containers were absolutely safe.
I am not sure what the lesson behind this story is. Maybe wait at least 31 minutes before killing yourself? Or maybe fully confirm that it was your container before committing suicide? I don't know where the lesson is, especially when looking at the story in full, as it was only a few months later after his family had cashed out that the American invasion of Iraq began and it did destroy all the products in that project along with the two-storied shops they were selling them in. Maybe this is life, or as my older brother described it once, "An air sandwich without bread."
That's the prologue, an air sandwich without bread. Yeah, that's what it is. A bird's attempt to break free. A bird with a scar already hung on the wall with its story written and it's too late to take it back as nothing can be unwritten at this point. This makes me think about this one kitten we had when it left home and some kids decided to beat it and cut its tail and throw it down from the roof of a building. At the vet, I figured, "At least this will be over now," but it survived. Still, I was the only one who still thought we should put it down.
You see, Sean's mother told me that some people can be damaged beyond repair. When that kitten would play afterwards, it looked happy but it just wasn't real.
It's not a prologue, it's an invitation for live footage surgery when brain worms are picked out one after another. That's what my life was, is, and what forever will be, my life. My life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life my life
God, it's so fucking disgusting outside!!!
Next Parts
To Set Myself Free: Jigsaw
To Set Myself Free: A House Frozen in Time
To Set Myself Free: Soul Transferring
To Set Myself Free: Pathalogical Bullies