If I could permanently ban one word from general usage, it would be “normal.”
It is a word without a soul — a linguistic vacuum that quietly drains the vibrancy from the human experience. It masquerades as truth, as if it holds final authority over how life is meant to look.
To call something “normal” is to wrap it in a shroud woven by those uncomfortable with difference. It is gravity disguised as guidance, keeping our feet in the mud and denying us the altitude of wonder.
“Normal” flattens the extraordinary. It smooths away the beautiful irregularities that make us unmistakably human, as though deviation were something to be corrected rather than understood.
By striking it from our vocabulary, we wash away the dull expectation of sameness and permit ourselves to see what has always been true: in a world stitched together by miracles, nothing was ever meant to be standard.
And words without souls should not be entrusted with defining us.
...The Rest Is His Story 
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