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My Weird Normal

A Textual (with some Youtube) blog of a Writer and vlogger who goes by My Weird Normal.

The Well Deserved Fuck You’s

Fuck you to that Black girl who told me that I talked like a White girl, triggering the land slide that became my life.

Fuck you to whoever came up with using “Oreo” to describe Black kids like me, a term I used to proudly refer to myself. Fuck you to my friends who accepted that and told me regularly that I wasn’t actually black. Fuck you to my high school self for agreeing with them. Fuck you to movie and film directors for never having a Black protagonist who was well-spoken, shy, and liked video games and Doctor Who and YA fiction. Fuck you to my ex-boyfriend who acted as if dating a Black girl was an exotic adventure. Also, fuck you to every who has ever looked at me weird for having a white boyfriend. Fuck you to my mom for saying that I dressed like  white girl, I wish I had asked her how the fuck to dress like a black girl. Fuck you to my boyfriend’s fiend who continues to call me white despite my boyfriend asking him not to. Fuck him for apologizing for one thing he had done but the telling me he won’t stop calling me White because he’s always done it and he thinks it’s harmless.

Fuck me for accepting that and telling him that it’s okay because my fear of confrontation kept me from making a scene and explaining to him why I’d rather him stop.. Fuck society for creating my association between being black and rap music, uneducation, and sports. Fuck you to my Black college friends who tell me that I’m actually White. Fuck  me for being too scared of scaring them off to correct them. Fuck me for blaming others for my ignorance and idiocy.

Fuck you to the Black girl who told me in the 6th grade that I talked like a White girl and made me feel like there was something wrong with me for the better half of my life. My personality does not determine my race. 

4-5-14

3:01 pm

I hate the “Friend Zone.”

The term supports the assumption that a guy and a girl cannot be friends, they can only be lovers or sexual partners. Fitting this assumption into other sexualities it would mean that two gay guys or lesbian girls can’t just be friends. Which leads me to ask: what about those people who are pansexual? Does this mean they can’t be friends with anyone of any sexuality? I don’t understand, who are we all supposed to be friends with?

This assumption supports the idea that girls should hang out with girls and guys should hang out with guys. An idea my parents seem to believe in, considering the fact that this past year they told me that I couldn’t and shouldn’t hang out with my best friend, even though he was my closest friend and the only person I really liked to talk to on a daily basis, because he had broken up with another best friend of mine who I wasn’t as close to. Their reasoning? Being a girl, I should take the girl’s side. 

That’s like saying that I should support Obama because I’m black and not because of his policies. Or that I should support North Carolina’s ban on same-gender marriage because it’s the location of my permanent address.

It bothers me when I realize how prevalent these ideas are in our society. My college will not allow members of the opposite sex in the dorms unlike many other colleges. Girls can’t be in the boy’s dorms and boy’s can’t be in the girl’s dorms- not without special permission at least. For one, I don’t understand why they are so afraid of adults having sex. Secondly, I don’t understand why they assume that two genders can’t be put together without everything turning into a massive orgy. Third, yes, I do realize that there are some people who will be having sex, but there are also some people who won’t be.

It bothers me that there are some girls and guys out there who have to worry about being accused of “friend zoning” others and I wonder if that will one day happen to me. Despite the fact that I am demisexual, I don’t make friends looking for someone to date. I make friends because I want someone to relate to, someone who will understand me. I would hate if I became friends with someone only to find out that they only participated in a friendship with me because they expected to me to date them. I don’t understand why some people believe that if they like someone and they’ve become friends with that person then they’re entitled to some sort of reward.

Now, I do get that in some situations someone will let someone else know that they are interested in being more than friends yet will end up being strung along or being used as a back up. That is pretty messed up. Yet this whole friend zone term is also being used used by those who are angry when the friend they were interested in let’s them know that they just aren’t interested in being more than friends and I think that is just as messed up. Seriously though, if a person ever told me that they were pissed at me for putting them in the friend zone I’d apologize to them for assuming they were a decent human being as well as someone I could relate to, and then never talk to them again.

3-27-14

10:19 pm

I don’t know how to be black.

I remember going shopping at a thrift store with my best friend. I had decided that I would try wearing skirts more rather than jeans for once. I was a short girl and, as a result of extensive research into seventeen and glamour magazines, knew all the tricks to look taller than the five feet tall girl I was. I knew that long skirts would weigh me down and that short skirts will cute booties will make me seem a few inches taller. So I bought three skirts and two below the ankle boots in black and brown and I brought my purchases home and my mother had me try them on for her  to see as if she was a judge for American Idol.

So I tried on my cute little swishy skirts, about 3 or 4 inches above my knee, and my little boots with my cute sweaters. I remember my mother taking a look at my outfit and muttering to my father that I was dressing like “those white girls.” 

I guess I just don’t know how to be black.

I was in middle school the first time someone told me I talked like a white girl. It was a black girl who came up to me and told me that. Until then I thought I had talked normal- save for my lisp and my problem with talking fast when I got excited. As I grew up I heard stuff like that a lot- I talked like a white girl, I acted like a white girl, I dressed like a white girl.

I hated it. I felt like there was something wrong with me. I felt like I needed to change everything I was and try to be like the other black girls I saw at my school. I felt like I needed to be loud and listen to rap and read Essence and Ebony. I felt like I needed to act in a way that I thought was more “black.”

I tried that out for maybe a year in high school before I realized that being black didn’t mean I had to be stereotypical. I could just be myself and still be black. So what if it seemed like other black teens liked rap music and black magazines and Tyler Perry- shudders- movies. I didn’t, and that didn’t make me any less black.

That brings me to today. It’s begun to annoy me more and more when I hear people tell me that I act white. Even still, I’m not going to suddenly try to change myself anytime soon. I’m pretty okay with who I am at the moment.

3-26-14

8:51pm

Sometimes you just want to give up.

Maybe it’s school. Maybe it’s family. Maybe it’s an ex. Shit happens and life sucks. You cry, you rage, you feel lonely. People leave, others stay, and new friends are made. I understand how it feels to literally want to give up on life and I struggle with it regularly. Life is stressful.

Sometimes you just need to blast some music.Some really loud, really angry, but really relatable music.

3-26-14

3 am

Things I Think Are Abnormal and/or Wrong

1. Putting salt in Oatmeal.

2. Eating only one or two pieces of popcorn at a time.

3. Not licking the Dorito dust from your fingers when in private.

4. Liking Cream of Wheat.

5. Not putting bread or apples in the fridge.

6. Putting bananas in the fridge.

7. Liking olives.

8. Being homophobic.

9. Anonymous hate messages.

10. Not drinking hot coffee/tea all year round- no matter how hot it is outside.

Dream 11/23/13

I was in class, though I don’t remember being in an actual classroom, I was in my bed. The teacher was telling us to bring in a chief executive of a business or something for some sort of project.
I remember going to a friends house to ask her, but she told me to pick up this other guy, CJ, instead. So, we went to get him. At his house a girl, probably his sister, opened the door thinking we wanted to talk to their father who was apparently famous. We told her and her father that we needed CJ for a project. Her father let him go with us, but told me that I had to marry him for some reason and that I had to give him my number. He freaked me out and I didn’t even have a phone, so I gave him a fake number. He tried to make me recite it to him so I tried to but I couldn’t recite them. I think he realized they were fake. 
We all got back to my house and I remember my siblings being there. I don’t know what happened but suddenly there was this clown with a clear gun trying to kill us. Somehow I had a gun that I think I had gotten from CJ’s dad. I tried shooting him while he kept shooting at me. I tried to figure out how to get my siblings out of there. At some point he had gotten into a closet with my siblings and I tried shooting inside of it, but he said that I had shot my brother or something. At some point his gun ran out of bullets and I told him to just go and everything would stop. He picked up a dead body- I don’t know who it was- and walked out the front door. I went over to check if he was actually going but he had dropped the body and was going around the back. I tried telling my siblings that we needed to go, and I kicked through the front door but they said that wasn’t such a good idea, being idiots and not listening, so I just left without them. They ended up following and there was this sea of cars before us for some reason. I was so scared that I passed Mrs. E’s (my neighbor’s) car and went further in. I got on top of one car and tried screaming up to the this helicopter to help us. I was waving up at it and I realized I still had the gun in my hand so I dropped it. Then some men came up to us and started to load us into a car and asking a few questions. They found the gun and asked what it was doing there. I told them I had dropped it so that the helicopter wouldn’t think I was a killer and shoot at me. My brother and I both realized that CJ wasn’t there.
It wasn’t until I woke up that I realized I didn’t remember my friend being there either. She kind of disappeared after we went to CJ’s.
There was a girl who had the power to write beautiful things that came to life. Her mother made her promise to keep it a secret. She listened and kept the secret in silence, never telling a soul until one day she met a girl. They quickly became best friends and played together everyday.
One night the girl invited her new friend to a sleepover. They stayed up late into the night, giggling and playing, having to shush themselves several times to keep from waking her sleeping mother. They ended up swapping secrets wrapped in cozy blankets and the girl’s special secret escaped past her lips before she could swallow it down. Her friend swore to secrecy and they sealed it with a pinky promise.
It wasn’t long before the girl fell asleep, her head filled with images of giant cookies and a world made of of chocolate. But her friend stayed awake, staring at her, a devious smile on her lips. Her image changed to that of a glowing horned creature with red eyes and no pupils. It silently moved closer closer to the girl, it’s form floating over her like a ghost.
It placed a hand on the girl’s cheek, the skin emitting a soft glow, and the girl’s eyes opened. The creature whispered foreign words under it’s breath and, as if she understood, the girl stood and walked over to her desk as it floated beside her. The girl picked up the pencil and with the creature’s free hand on hers she began to write…

There was a girl who had the power to write beautiful things that came to life. Her mother made her promise to keep it a secret. She listened and kept the secret in silence, never telling a soul until one day she met a girl. They quickly became best friends and played together everyday.

One night the girl invited her new friend to a sleepover. They stayed up late into the night, giggling and playing, having to shush themselves several times to keep from waking her sleeping mother. They ended up swapping secrets wrapped in cozy blankets and the girl’s special secret escaped past her lips before she could swallow it down. Her friend swore to secrecy and they sealed it with a pinky promise.

It wasn’t long before the girl fell asleep, her head filled with images of giant cookies and a world made of of chocolate. But her friend stayed awake, staring at her, a devious smile on her lips. Her image changed to that of a glowing horned creature with red eyes and no pupils. It silently moved closer closer to the girl, it’s form floating over her like a ghost.

It placed a hand on the girl’s cheek, the skin emitting a soft glow, and the girl’s eyes opened. The creature whispered foreign words under it’s breath and, as if she understood, the girl stood and walked over to her desk as it floated beside her. The girl picked up the pencil and with the creature’s free hand on hers she began to write…

(via metaviper)

Demie 3

"You’re so cute when you yawn." Ian smiled softly, falling down on my bed next to me.

"Flattery gets you nowhere." I muttered, ignoring the flutter in my stomach.

A deep bass resonated in his chest. “Then how do I get somewhere?”

"By shutting up so I can get some fucking sleep." I rolled over onto my stomach and closed my eyes. He was silent.

 

I think heartbreak is inevitable.

No, this does not mean that everyone you’ll ever love will beak your heart. It means that at some point in your life you will offer your heart to someone and they will stomp on it.

They’ll tell you they love you- an maybe they do, but sometimes people fall out of love I’ve never understood the point of hating an ex because they fell out of love. I would rather him tell me he doesn’t love me anymore than leave me, saying he still loves me.

Shit happens. Lovers leave you and it’ll feel as if your heart is being ripped from your chest. You will wrap your arms around your body as if that will keep you from breaking apart. When you lie in bed at night you will crumple in tears under the covers like a discarded page of a story you wanted so desperately to be a part of.

You’ll have good days where you don’t think of them. You’ll be able to laugh and smile without it being forced. You’ll feel as if you’re over them and you’ll tell yourself that you’re coming out strong. But then you’ll have bad days where you can’t do anything but think of how your glasses would clink against his when you kissed. Or how, whenever the two of you hung out you’d kiss his cheek out of the blue and he’d just look at you and smile. Or how, when you first met, you were both so shy with each other. And you’ll cry and listen to sad music and wonder what the hell you did wrong to make him leave.

It takes a while to get over someone you love, and, unfortunately, I have no idea how that feels yet. I just know I’ll come out stronger on the other side. Maybe I’ll stop wanting to give up all of the time. Maybe I’ll be able to say “I’m fine” without lying.

2-24-14

1:04 pm

Slightly Better Names For A Girl’s Period.

The Devil’s Waterfall. The Red Terror. The Red Horror. The Bloody Horror. The Crimson Wave. The Crimson Flow. The Crimson River. The Red River. The Blood Bomb. The Red Flood. The Opening of the Red Flood Gates. The Red Leak. THE ETERNAL RED RIVER THAT CRAWLS ALONG THE FLOOR OF HELL TARGETING EVERY CUTE PANTY YOU HOLD DEAR TO YOUR HEART. That Time Of Month.

2-23-14

6:48 pm

Atlas 1

It is not a dark and stormy night.

 The sky is clear actually. And it is morning.

The day had been good. There had been no ominous feeling. No warning. Nothing that would’ve foreshadowed anything bad was about to happen.

Nothing that would’ve led up to this.

This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. And now there’s no time left.

My ears are ringing in the silence. The sky tilts as I blink, disoriented. A bolt of pain shoots through me and I clutch my head with a moan.

Someone is screaming. A girl is on the ground next to me, screaming nails on chalkboard.

Metal is everywhere. In my mouth, in my nose, in my hair. It swirled red on the pavement.

I rolled over trying to get up on my hands and knees. The distinct feeling of a boot grounds painfully into my back. A guard leers down at me, crouching in front of me to grab my chin.

His lips move but I don’t listen. I try to pull away from him, but his grip tightens as he yanks me up from the ground.

That’s when I get a good look around and I can only stare in shock. The school my sister goes to. The park she likes so much. The ice cream shoppe I took her to for cookie dough and chocolate chip.

It is all nothing more than rubble now.

The guard grabs me by the arm and drags me towards a truck. There are others inside, all blood and bone and bracelets. I let him pull me, too weak to struggle, too tired to fight.

Then I see her.

Her mouth open in a silent scream.

Her little arms wrapped around herself.

Her green eyes peek out through half closed lids.

Blood dyes her hair red.

I yank my arm from the guard’s grasp and run for her, ignoring the yells and curses coming from behind me. I slump over her lifeless form, begging her to look at me, to be alive.

Her eyes focus on nothing.

A hand catches me by my short, trying to yank me away. I blindly grasp around her neck, frantic to find it before they take me away. My fingers catch on something and it releases as I am yanked back to the truck.

The guard throws me roughly against another boy, my elbow banging against the side. A last glance of the outdoors and I see the metal swing set. A lone swing hanging by one chain, the rest is bare. The seat is carved with a knife and I don’t have to be close to know what it says.

Cadie & Atlas

The doors close, plunging us in darkness.

 

Demie 2

The music washed over me as silk, gentle and smooth. Enchanting, it pulled me into a trance, a dream-like trance. I felt as if I was floating, higher and higher as his fingers danced over the keys. Magic, he created magic through his fingertips, dazzling and beautiful. His music was the music I hoped someday to create, music that would give people the same sensation it was giving me.

I had been playing the piano when the doorbell rang and he was there. At first, I didn’t remember him. He asked me out for coffee, reminding me that I had promised to go with him some other time. Almost immediately, I remembered him coming to my house the night before- I don’t know how I could’ve forgotten about it all day, just forget this beautiful stranger. 

"I’d said ‘maybe,’" I protested half-heartedly.

"Then say yes," he grinned at me as if he’d already won. He had.

We went out for coffee and had a good time, though, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about. He brought me back home afterwards and same conversation on my front porch, that I also didn’t remember, led to him playing my piano.

My eyelids began to droop as he finished, his fingers going still above the keys. He looked over at me and smiled softly. “Did you like it?”He stood, coming over to me, and ran his fingers, his magical fingers, through my dark brown hair. 

"It was beautiful," I yawned. "I wish I could play like that." My eyes closed for a second but I blinked them open.

"It’s late and you’re tired," He didn’t phrase it as a question- not as if he needed to, it was pretty obvious.

I blinked my eyes open, “What was it called? That piece you played?”

He scooped me up from off the couch and carried me upstairs, “It doesn’t have a name yet. I just finished it today.” He wrote it? Huh, a composer in my own house, who knew? He pulled back my comforter and laid me in my bed. “Maybe I’ll name it after you,” he smiled a little, absently playing with my hair.

I stared at him through half-closed eyes for a minute before looking away, “I’m not that amazing.”

He didn’t say anything to that and a little later, I guess when he thought I was asleep, he stood.

"Wait," I caught him by the arm before he turned away, fighting to stay awake, there was something I wanted to know: "Who are you?" 

He may have answered but I didn’t hear, I had already succumbed to darkness.

 

Demie 1

The hushed whispers behind closed doors had turned to screaming matches in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t always like this, they used to love each other, they use to be faithful, they used to be able to sit in the same room without fighting and yelling at each other, but that was before. My dad used to buy my mom flowers and my mom was always so shy around him, but that was before.

Something propelled me downstairs to witness what was going on in the kitchen. I wanted them to stop yelling, I just wanted it all to stop. Willing myself not to run, to scream, to cry, I peered around the corner into their background.

“I’ve been working my ass off every single day thinking that I’ll come home to my wife only to find you off seeing him!”

“Don’t act so goddamn righteous! I’m not the only one who’s been seeing someone!” My mom snapped at him. My father’s furious expression didn’t waver as he waved her away.

“I don’t have time for this!” he started for the door of the study. I hid on the stairs that led to the deck, praying to God that he wouldn’t come this way.

“Monty!” My mom yelled after him, stomping after him -in the other direction, away from me. I moved closer to the family room, to where the battleground had now spread. “So, you can say what you want to say, but when I have something to say you don’t have time?!”

“Why can’t you just leave it alone?!” My dad hurled at her. The light of the TV threw shadows on their faces; the atmosphere was rapidly growing more and more volatile.

“I didn’t even start this! You did! You always do!” She pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You expect me to just sit and watch while you two go behind my back?!”

“What about you?! I gave up my dreams and my career to marry you! I’ve done everything for you and what’s my thanks? I’m not stupid, I’m not blind-”

“So what?!” My dad raised his voice to overcome hers. “How does that justify anything? I’ve tried to make you happy! Haven’t I given you enough?!”

There was silence and they only glared at each other through the thick tension boiling in the space between them. I held my breath, praying that they would be done, that they would just walk away, that they would go back to pretending that they didn’t notice what the other was doing behind their back, and waited for what I hoped to be the end. It wasn’t.

“No.” My mom pulled her wedding ring off and threw it at him. “No, you haven’t. You will never ever be able to do what he does for me. Your disease-” her tone was filled with disgust. “-has always been in the way, but you deserve it. Damn you, you deserve-”

Slap!

She fell to the floor, taking a vase on the mantel above the fireplace down with her which shattered against the dark hardwood floor. A scream filled the room as my dad kept her down with his hands around her throat, as a murderous mask took over his features. The scream wasn’t hers, it was mine.

“Daddy! Stop!” I tried to loosen his hold on her, panicked and unsuccessful. “Stop! You’re killing her! You’re killing her! Daddy!”

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