Ever since I was a young teen, I wished I could be normal.

Have a brain without mental illness and anxiety disorders.

No chemical imbalance.

Lifetime depression would be absent.

Sometimes, I don’t want to be me.

Some days, I’m so tired of being alive.

Few days, I actually feel all right.

Sometimes, I tell myself over and over I’m okay.

Some days, my mind won’t stop.

Few days, I don’t believe my mind’s insults.

I take an anti-anxiety pill and breathe out.

If I was normal, I wouldn’t struggle to hold a job.

If I was normal, I’d be confident.

But I’m not.