I spent an entire summer learning how to be someone else.
Not in a dramatic, secret-identity kind of way. I did not dye my hair. I did not move to another city. I did not awaken mysterious powers under a full moon. I simply decided that in high school, I would be normal.
That was all.
Middle school and I had an understanding. I stayed quiet, and it mostly ignored me. I laughed two seconds too late. I answered questions with the shortest words possible. When group work happened, I naturally drifted toward the role of "person who holds the paper." I was not bullied dramatically or tragically. I was just… there. Present, but replaceable.
Some people are born main characters. Some are supporting cast. I had apparently signed up as background furniture. Damn...
So when summer began, I made a plan.
Normal people smile without looking like they are apologizing. They say "good morning" without rehearsing it internally first. They know how long eye contact is acceptable before it becomes unsettling. These were skills. Learnable skills. Which meant I could study them.
I observed people at the mall like I was conducting social research. I rewatched old conversations in my head and analyzed what went wrong. I practiced smiling in the mirror until it stopped looking like a software glitch. I even prepared emergency jokes. Three of them. Carefully selected. Field-tested on my cousin.
High school would be my reset button.
No one there knew me as the quiet kid. No one expected me to stay silent. I could speak first. Laugh on time. Join conversations before they closed without me. I could become the version of myself that did not fade into the background.
By the end of summer, I felt ready.
Confident, even.
This time, I would not be invisible.
I just did not realize that trying so hard to become normal might be the most abnormal decision I would ever make.