Short Poem About New Normal Novels & Stories

I hope you didn't forget to be amazed by small things. I'm writing this on a Thursday afternoon. It's raining. I'm in my dorm room, procrastinating on a paper about the poetry of Mary Oliver. She said that attention is the beginning of devotion. I don't know what that means yet, but I think I will someday. I hope you have a garden. I hope you have a dog. I hope you have someone who loves you in the quiet, ordinary way. The kind of love that stays. I'm scared, I think. Of the future. Of becoming someone I don't recognize. I'm writing this to remind you—to remind me—that we were scared, and we were okay. We got through it.

Saying it out loud wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, yet I had been trapped by this truth for so many years. "That's not true. It's not that I don't love you..." His eyes fell on my right hand, as if he had found a glimmer of hope. He lifted my hand, his expression filled with expectation. “You’re still wearing this ring, which means you still love me.” On my right ring finger was a plain band, its color faded and worn, looking quite cheap. It was because of this that during my three years wandering the streets, no one ever tried to steal it.

~ Two Weeks Later: It's been two weeks since we have been staying here, our lives were quite normal, but it wasn't good. Good thing I saved the money I was earning from my old job. I was wishing Xavier could just come from nowhere and rescue us. Rescue? Tears flowed down my eyes, did I like Xavier? I think I do... Who knows he might have already gotten married and forgotten I ever exist. The thought of him getting married and forgetting about me brought nothing but pain to my heart.

Hoping for a better poem, oops sorry but you might've been diss By of course me Abnormally normal isn't normal so don't expect anything too real See you next chapter Hopefully we'll meet That's enough goodbye Blow Kiss

He told me about a funny thing that happened at work, I told him about a design idea I'd been working on, we laughed and talked like we used to, like the friends we'd been before everything got complicated. "Thank you for this," I said when we'd finished eating, "I needed it, needed us to feel normal again." "We can be normal," he reached across the table and took my hand, "we can be better than normal, we can be what we're supposed to be." "What are we supposed to be?" "Happy," he said simply, "in love, together against the world." My new phone buzzed on the table between us, I glanced at the screen, unknown number.

Maybe he had never been treated like that before, but slowly, the calls stopped. The messages also went silent. At last, I could start adjusting to a new life. At first, it felt strange being in an unfamiliar place and a brand-new job all by myself. However, little by little, I realized I could actually find joy in it. Life began to feel meaningful and purposeful again. The part of me that had been suppressed for years was finally breaking free. Sometimes, though, my thoughts would drift back to the past, to those unforgettable moments that had carved themselves into my heart.

The phone barely rang before a stern, surprised voice answered. "Hello? Grace?" I pressed my lips together and hoarsely said, "Mom, Dad, I want to come home."

Serena. The moon is too bright. It hangs low like it knows what I am, what we all are, and it’s daring us to pretend we’re normal. It has been weeks since we've moved and if I'm being honest, we've been good at pretending. Waking up with alarms instead of instincts. Drinking coffee. Saying “thank you” and “have a nice day” like our teeth weren’t made for tearing.

And I was ready for whatever came next. --- The peace was a blessing. A blessing I had never thought I would receive. A blessing I had fought for with everything I had. And I would never take it for granted. I would cherish every moment. Every breath. Every heartbeat. Because I knew that life was precious. That love was precious. That hope was precious. And I would protect them. With everything I had. I walked into the light. And I was ready for whatever came next. --- The world was safe. The virus was eradicated.

“Maybe a little.” I shake my head, but I don’t move away. Which is probably a mistake. A big one. Because the longer I stay like this— The harder it’s going to be to pretend this didn’t matter. And it mattered. Way more than I want to admit. “So,” I say, trying to sound normal, “this is new.” “What is?” “This whole… staying thing.” He shifts slightly beneath me, his arm still wrapped around me. “Yeah.” “Are we pretending this is normal?”