Normal, Am I?

When I see,
I see that evening unfold—
People wrap their lives around a cocktail glass,
Some with ice in it—some ice in the neck, some both,
Some tangled in their lover’s soul,
Drunk in love or liquor in the corridor?
Losing themselves in the moment?
Or maybe they were never conscious.
I dunno.

And I’m sitting,
Just with a glass of sprinkled water,
Watching them like normal people behaving normally,
Yeah, otherwise, I’m the one who acts to be normal.
Watch the stars—in a shed,
As if they belong to a different universe than mine.
Or am I the different one?
Fuck it, gimme some wine.
I stand on the floor,
A little high,
I’m normal people.
Am I?

When I see,
I see we live so normally.
We eat, drink, enjoy for living.
We love to live—
Or do we live for love?
It’s still a confusing remark on our lives.

But me, as an individual in this society of
Lovers and haters,
I’m normal people—
Yet I can’t see things normally
Like the people around me.
I tell it again,
And whisper it in my own ear, as a lie.
I am normal people.
Am I?

And if I am not,
Why does the world feel so distant?
Why does the music sound like echoes from another life?
Why do I feel like a spectator
At a play where I forgot my lines?
Why does love look like a performance?
Why does it always have to shine?
Or am I just one of the audience,
Clapping on cue,
Smiling when expected,
But never really a part of that beautiful crime?

They say it’s normal to feel lost sometimes.
They say it’s normal to pretend.
But if we all pretend,
Who’s normal?
Who’s real
At that time?

I tell it again.
I tell it until the liars lose the meaning of a lie.
I am normal people.
Am I?