Normality

What is normal to a person may be different with what others perceive as a normal thing for them. To one, a normal day is waking up at 7:00 AM, eating breakfast with family, driving to work, working until 4 PM and getting home in time for dinner with family.

My normal day has varied throughout the years. Summer of highschool, a normal day is just me waking up nearly at noon, staying at home watching television or reading a book, and planning an outing with my friends. When college came, a normal day meant waking up early to get to school, class whole day but still I was able to hang out with friends and my boyfriend, going home late, doing plates or maybe watching a movie or two before bed, waiting until my boyfriend and I could finally get some sleep. Sometimes I don't get the sleep I need with my insomnia, but that was 'normal'.

Nowadays, what is a normal day for me encompasses waking up with chest pains or tears from a nightmare almost at noon, finding ways to not leave myself alone with my own thoughts by watching movies, or doing crafts or reading, then going to bed knowing I'm never going to get a restful sleep. This became my normal. 

The thing is, months ago, I knew how to live. I was living a life worthwhile, well sort of, minus the going into architecture forcefully though I learned to like it. There was still passion in living. But right now, I don't know what I'm doing. I've realized I was no longer living. I was alive, yes. But living? I had no passion, no life, no anything. Just floating and waiting until the time comes. And I'm okay with that because I think I deserve it. I refuse to live a life without the one thing that keeps me going, and that is my heart. The paradox remains that I'm stuck with normal day; since, it does not let me live. But if I do not love what I do, then I accept my normality.