Chapter one

Do you ever feel numb? I do. It’s like everything is happening around me at one hundred miles a minute without stopping just continuing on and on; yet I’m stood still. Static. I’m seeing, I’m talking, I’m breathing. I am not living. Instead I am merely writing a story. An interwoven tale of pain, bravery and lust. A lust for life. A lust for something other than this. An undying lust for normality.

A shape is often changed; it is moulded and redesigned over and over until it is barely recognisable. Everything changes in life. People, places, feelings, time, dreams. Nothing stays the same. Well, nearly nothing. I’m still the same. There is no amount of moulding or redesigning that can change me. I am who I am. What I see in the mirror is me. It is the face that greets every person that I meet; day after day. We are the people who see so little of our own faces, yet care so deeply when we see them, at least I do.

I passed a lady in the street today, and she smiled. As she did I wondered what she was thinking? It was probably about the fact she was going to see her friends that evening and she didn’t know what to wear. Or that she really fancied that cake in the bakeries window that I am now passing. It’s pink, with iridescent gold dust resting upon its unpolished butter-cream. Happiness beams across my face just at the sight. My eyes trace the shelves. Cake after cake, after cake. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many at once.

As I reach the end of the final row my smile vanishes. In one moment I am brought back to reality, crashing. My crooked grin, wholly unsymmetrical, greets me in the most unwelcome manner. In an instance I am back in school. Those mindless taunts echoing as if I have suddenly entered the darkest and longest tunnel, and there is no light at its end.

Transfixed by my reflection I suddenly become very aware that I have been blankly staring ahead for distinctly longer than is necessary. I turn away and, whilst watching the pavement unfold before me, mutter under my breath.

"You are fine. You’re brave, and strong. That isn’t you any more." I sigh as I open the door to my house, clamber in to my bed and under the warm floral covers, "Baby steps, just keep taking baby steps."

You often hear these stories, don’t you? You read them in magazine’s and watch them on the television. The stories where people overcome adversity, accept themselves for just being them and do amazing things. But what about those who don’t? What happens to those of us who just fight to make it through each day with a smile still on our face.

Some people’s lives are extraordinary, others are just extraordinarily average. I am not quite sure where mine fits in.