Introduction

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Everyone wants to live normal, act normal, be normal, do normal things, and not be tagged as weird or as an outsider when you can do or see things of the ordinary.

Have normal friends who do normal things, go to normal parties, have normal sleepovers, have normal primary and secondary school memories.

Well, I guess my life wasn’t the case, seeing as I was the weird one, who wasn’t normal, who didn’t have friends aside from my mum, twin sister, older brother, and his adorable girlfriend.

Wait… did I forget to mention my very own person?

My personal person.

The guy who isn’t my family but is like family.

The guy who ignored whatever this girl has been called since an incident I am not sure happened but happened and still stayed by her.

The guy who never misses a day to tell me how much he likes me.

The guy who never fails to let me know how beautiful and special I was.

The guy…

I don’t think I would be able to get anywhere with all these eulogies I am freely giving him.

So back to my life…

I never wanted to be seen as that weirdo or so but that was what came on me.

I could remember my first best friend when I was in primary school. Angie. She is a friendly, beautiful soul that is so full of life, open-hearted, and a great friend.

At first, I thought she wanted to be friends with me because she was new before she would migrate to the big and popular girls in school, but no, it was me she wanted and we became best of friends.

She was the bestest ‘if that word exists’ friend I have ever had and I was glad I had met someone as amazing as her and someone who likes me just like my family does.

It was sad that I had to leave the school after primary school ‘my dad’s order though’ to go attend a secondary school in another different place and somewhere quite far from her school/my ex-school.

We did try numerous ways on staying in touch with each other but that just didn’t work out so we haven't even seen each other in like four or maybe five years now and I do wish her the best in life.

There is the dark mysterious part of my childhood that I wasn’t a part of, that I don’t know about.

I have always felt like something was missing but I couldn’t put a name to it and don’t have any idea of how it is or even a hint.

My family didn’t show any sign that anything was missing and all. They were just your normal loving family, well except for my dad. That is something I would talk about some other time… or… now?

Well, whatever moving forward now.

My family, as I said before are loving and supportive of me, even when it gets too hard and difficult for me to return back to sleep, they would be there, and ‘they’ I mean my mum, twin, and brother would be around me since I was little.

And when my siblings are not able to stay awake, mum tuck them in bed and would stay with me till I slept off, even when dad complains that she wasn’t staying beside him in the bed.

Dad would just go off at me and make me sound like the bad person here, then say horrendous things to me and it would make me wonder if I was an adopted child that mum is trying to bring into the family and dad was approving of me.

Everything I do is never right in his eyes and it gives him an opportunity to say things to me and it… was depressing and… I don’t know how to explain it but when you get called different kinds of names by your dad, that could be so saddening and it would for sure lower your self-esteem.

“Who knows you could be a witch or something. Like if you could see things that no one can and start behaving weirdly, it could be witchcraft” he would say in an attempt to make a joke.

Mum would caution him all the time and that would sometimes lead them to quarrel then dad would look at me with so much distaste and blame it on me as he does with most things.

Them quarreling is the last thing I want in my life. Mum didn’t have to quarrel with dad because of his weird conclusions about me or just anything.

I can see the deep love they share and I wouldn't like to be the one that comes in the middle or makes her be at his receiving end.

But this time seems better… better in a sense that I rarely ever see these dreams or things like I would say it and it is quite amazing.

If I could remember clearly, I had one when I was as young as twelve years old and there hadn't been screams, mysteries, cries of fear, nightmares, sweating like I had run a marathon, or any of that sort.

But, one thing though… last Friday, I had the same dream I could remember as my first dream when I started seeing all these things, and this time… it isn't as before.

It is worse.