The last time my life was normal? I don't know what you mean.

Perhaps last summer, at one of the last sleepovers with the two people I thought of as sisters. Yes. That's before everything changed.

Then it went all tilted and skewed. I was friends with people I... how do I put it? I didn't like, didn't trust, but decided to give them yet another chance.

But they were different than the others, you know? The others, they had actually been my friends, and we had gotten to that point of... I don't know... before it went sour yet again. It was different. I can't explain how, but you'll just have to trust me.

Why trust me?

Cause I know myself. Or at least, I know myself a lot better than I did.

But after that, nothing was normal. Or, should I say, nothing was mine.

Not as in I owned it. Just that, I guess things did come to a certain pattern that could be considered "normal." After a few months, I could expect another sleepover on this weekend, which would most likely be accompanied by loud music or alcohol or both. Or there'd be a party that weekend, where it'd all get a little out of control (compared to other parties) or a lot out of control (compared to "normal").

Is predictability the same thing as normal?

But it got "normal." This was Normal. But I didn't want it. It wasn't the normal I wanted. I threw it all away with a smile on my face.

And then I realized that by throwing it all away, it still didn't make it normal. Make it mine.

Staying, would this new predictability make it my kind of normal?

I guess that's the question, even though I don't want to risk everything of these months to find out.

Three months, and my fall from grace will be complete. They say the firsts hurt the hardest, right?

In three months, there will be no more firsts in relation to that chapter of my life.

Somehow, though, I don't think it will be quite that easy.


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