I have always been fairly normal. I never really stood out of either end of the spectrum. I do sometimes find myself wondering if things are what they seem; what's real.
Like when I was a child I remember my mother bringing home three puppies for me and my brother. One was solid white, except for a small black spot on its nose. Another was about the same size but much fluffier. It was mainly brown but had a patch of white on it's chest and black tipped, floppy ears. The third was the runt. It's color scheme was much the same a #2 but the brown was traded for a deep black.
We had them for a couple of weeks. I named my favorite(the runt) Snowball. Yes, Irony flowed through me even as a child.
We were really enjoying playing with them until the fluffy one bit Charlie's finger. It wasn't a necessarily hard bite but it did send him running to mom.
I knew it was a bad sign, that's why I did it. I picked up all three and put them in a white cotton pillow case. I slung the yipping case over my shoulder and didn't hesitate. I went to the nearest tree and kept swinging until the cotton had turned to a dark, dripping red.
I dropped impromptu sack and headed to check on my brother. Never regretting it. I didn't feel anything.
I don't know what I should think about this, but my theory is that puppies may not be real. If they were, wouldn't I have felt something?