End

I look out my bedroom window as rain falls onto the unruly ground and turning everything to lathering moist. It's soft pattering sound against my windowpane felt like music to my ears. I love the rain. I love how it falls unto the ground; love how the frogs croaked in symphony; love how its sad features brought me happiness—it was incredibly beautiful in ways I can't explain. Although no one really could understand my love for the rain—they hated the "sad" weather. 

They ask me why I loved it so much, but I just shrug in response—unable to define my love in words they can understand. People thought I was weird. So I asked them: Then what is normal? Define normal. They'd give me a dictionary in reply and tell me to read the definition. But I just couldn't understand. 

Normal: conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected.

Normal... such a vague definition. Standards? Typical? Expected? What standards are we upheld to? Are we to upheld the standards of the majority and care less for the minority? Is typical supposed to be what the general masses do on an everyday bases—the average joe? Do we expect people to act a certain way even we, ourselves, are uncertain of the future? What is normal? I don't know.

Maybe I'm just young, maybe I'm not supposed to know anything. But, I can't help but think—will I get to learn more things as I get older—understand a lot better? Then tell me why. Why do we have wars, disputes—even as we get older? Is it because adults have so much knowledge that they think they're better than others? I thought adults were supposed to be the better people... but then again, I don't know.

So I just pretend to know. I just nod my head, at things I don't even understand. 

Am I weird? I nod. 

Do I understand? I nod. 

They say ignorance is bliss, but then tell me why I'm not in bliss. I turn my other cheek—hope that even as ignorant as I am—I would be happy.

I smile, laugh, and do other things that are supposed to be attributes of happiness. Yet.. am I 'happy'? I nod.