DARK SIDE OF THE MOON
I used to think that things could be normal for me. I used to think that I was only a fluke while I was going through my teenage years and that I'd be normal at the other end of the tunnel, but I wasn't too sure when I was sitting in my house, alone, with no one to knock at my door to check on me.
And there is still no one in my league.
I used to dream that I'd go somewhere some day and someone would notice me and take me home. I used to think that I really had somewhere to go, somewhere to hold dear to my heart and remember always wishing for when I was young, or just somewhere where I was accepted and I wasn't too strange. The thing is, I was never naïve. People hate that. They like to reminisce and remember all the stupid things they used to do, first love, first heartbreak, first day of high school. The thing is, I didn't care. I never did. Sure, I had boyfriends, I had friends, I had troubles, but they weren't like that.
And there was no one to understand me. Ever.
So I started to think that maybe I had some special purpose in life. You know, my parents were strongly Christian and so were my older siblings, but I really didn't care. I had my own order. I had my own religion. And it wasn't Christianity. For a while, to keep from killing myself, I used to tell myself that I could be a Mary. I could be the Virgin Mary. In a different life. In a different view. I didn't think that she had red hair like me, no, I wasn't stupid, I just wanted to find something to give me hope. Life had already become too lame for me. It was just a toy. That is when I started realizing that the Virgin Mary couldn't be who I was because the Virgin Mary was human. Human, like all the rest. She could feel love, she could feel motherhood, and she could feel the presence. There is no presence for me. There is no essence for me.
And there is no one for me.
That is when I started getting older and I started seeing more things. Not like I didn't see things before in my mind, but when I grew older, my parents let me go places. Far away, in the dreams of other children, but in the reach for me. I could go over seas, I could climb the mountains, I could swim in the oceans...and I thought that would make me feel whole. I thought that would fill the emptiness in me that had grown to swallow me, consume me, to be me. I was nothing but the hunger. I was nothing but the emptiness. I was nothing but the black hole.
And that is when someone told me about the dark side of the moon.