Novel & Cerita Short Poem About New Normal

No matter who didn’t make it to see it. A small breath left me. Not forced this time. Just… natural. Behind me, the house was already awake. I could hear movement downstairs. Margaret was probably making by breaksfast. Routine. Normalcy. It had taken a while to get used to that word again. Normal. It didn’t mean perfect. It didn’t mean everything was okay. It just meant… continuing. And that was enough. For now. My fingers pressed slightly against the glass as my gaze drifted outward.

Alone had stopped meaning physical space and started to mean the way they looked at me sometimes like the rest of the world had been turned down. I added another. 3. Stop thinking about any moment you've shared with any of them. Especially the night with Ellis. I scoffed quietly. That rule felt like a joke even as I wrote it. 4. Be normal. Act normal. I paused to stare at it for a few seconds then cancelled it out. What did normal even mean anymore? My phone buzzed beside me, the vibration making me jump. I glanced at the screen to see it was Asher calling. I didn’t pick it up immediately. I watched it buzz itself into silence, my heart doing that uneven, irritating thing it had started doin

You're full of surprises, I hope you don't clone. You're truly special, in a very unique way, I know you're expensive, for last month, I must pay. I must say, I'd never trade, You seem determined, when I am afraid. I do love you, a super great deal, Your humorous ways, certainly heal. You better place, this poem in a frame, Otherwise, I'll just change the name. Just remember, you're my special daughter, Now please be kind, and bring me some water.

I nod my head in response and look straight, feeling the plane taking off slowly from the ground. We were finally leaving this place behind. I took this chance and look out of the window, admiring the beauty of my hometown. “Goodbye,” I say softly, placing my palm on the window and feel a tear roll down my cheeks. Mom grasps my hand and says, “Don’t worry. You will make many friends in New York. Don’t think about what happened anymore okay?” I gave her a sad smile and look away. Never look back at this place again and move on. This will be my new beginning. I repeat this in my head a hundred times before I drift off to sleep wondering what my future will be like...

So, now, when people see me, they just look at me like I am crazy. I've since been to therapy, and this week, my therapist recommended I try to think about my life being normal. She also said something about manifestation and how what I think in my head reflects in my everyday life. I don't understand it, and I don't even think I believe it, but I'm too exhausted to care. I go along with it because it's therapy. It's supposed to help people and also because some part of me hopes it'll work. So my mantra for this week is that normal is good, normal is great, and the most important thought that i don't voice out about normal is that normal things happen to normal people.

Not for a second. His eyes moved around the room. The shelves. The beds. The blankets. The lanterns. The wooden beams overhead. Ordinary things. Very ordinary things. His smile faded. “We missed this.” Nobody spoke. Because suddenly the room understood. The city. The people. The thousands waiting there. Whatever they were. Wherever they were. They didn’t have this. Simple things. Normal things. Lives. Homes. Rain against windows. Warm rooms. Conversations. Arguments.

“It's been a while since I heard the word normal, nothing is normal.” I turn to look at her, “If the apocalypse ends today, do you think the world will be back to normal?” I ask. Mel shook her head doubtfully. “I don't think so, important lives have been lost and there's no way people will cope with the new world without looking above their shoulders. Life used to be normal, a cure can't bring normality back”. I sigh and cut the thread. “Aright then, let's get you stitch”. *********************

She is anxiously rattling her leg as we sit on the porch steps, the stars splattered all over the dark sky overhead. We point out shooting stars as we wait, as though it will make things better. As if mindless wishes on stars will make a damn difference in this situation. We want everyone to be okay, we want everyone to be safe, and afterwards we will settle into this new normal. Whatever this new normal may come out to be. “When did life get so difficult?” Ann asks, speaking to the moon above like a star will fall into our laps with an answer tied to it. “When I found my mate,” I mutter. “Or I should say, he found me.”

Without waiting for a reply, I turn around and climb the stairs to my bedroom. I keep losing my focus, and my concentration when all I’m doing right now is chopping some onions in the pack house kitchen. It’s bizarre but at the same time comfortable that things have gone back to normal so soon. You would expect that something as huge as a rogue attack on the pack would freeze lives and activity but I feel it’s the opposite. Tragedies or hardships like these somehow force people to return to normal because they don’t want to live in that passing phase of grief, sorrow, and anxiety. Normality makes it that much better because at least then everyone can pretend everything is alright and they we

And beneath the watching Quiet Stars— our first ordinary day passed peacefully into evening. No prophecies. No disasters. No endings. Just home.