  I may not remember everyhing I pondered over last night, but this is one thing I recall... Why do we wish for a normal life? I realized that, many a time, I have wanted nothing more than a normal life. I have complained because my life was so different from what everyone else's seemed to be, and I have wanted to be just like them.
I have felt bad for having a completely odd and twisted story to tell that may get uncanny looks thrown at me, and I always seem to have a completely odd and twisted story for anything worth telling... Why?! A conversation with my sister and a good look in the mirror helped me remember that, fundamentally, diversity is what makes me me.
And, after that occurrance, I am very glad that my nose was broken ten years ago and never quite returned to looking straight and that I don't often look like a photocopy of someone else... that I have oversized ex-soccer player legs and four cheeks when I smile, and, more importantly, that I cannot match my life to any book that's been written (that I have read thus far, anyway, technically), or that I can't relate to most stories published on Seventeen magazine and such others... This is what it means to be different. 
