I don’t know anyone who thinks they’re “normal.” Which makes sense because we all know our own flaws better than anyone else, so we disqualify ourselves from being “normal” faster than anyone else will.
Or maybe I hang out with the wrong people? What is normal, anyway?
Well, I’m certainly not “normal” and happy to be that way!
Same! How boring would that be, anyway? No room to sit on my front porch in my unicorn snuggy and giant bunny slippers on a Sunday morning while coloring in my coloring book and eating a bag of tiny donuts.
The neighborhood kids must love you!
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