What is Normal?

"What kind of girl do you like?"

I asked him casually at a cafe in front of the station, and after thinking for a moment, he replied.

"A normal girl, I guess."

Normal.

Huh?

That word really bothered me.

Normally cute, normally kind, normally good at her job.
Normally thoughtful, normally a good cook, normally liked by everyone.

Doesn't that just mean almost perfect?

The face mask I used for today, this blouse I spent an hour agonizing over in front of the closet, the band songs I learned because he said he liked them, the makeup I redid over and over in front of the mirror.

Will all of that just be dismissed by him with the single word "normal"?

"Yua, I like that you're normal."

As he said that, he had a look on his face like he was genuinely complimenting me.
That's exactly why it felt a little sad.

There are more special girls in this world.
Girls with eye-catching beauty or talents no one else can imitate.
I am still in the middle of struggling.
"Normal" might be a passing grade. But it's not a perfect score.

On the way home, I look at my shadow under a streetlamp.
The clumsiness of going silent when I'm angry, the late-night cup noodles I resisted yesterday, the nervousness before meeting him.
To me, they are all part of a desperate, special daily life.

But then, I suddenly realized.

In front of him, I don't have to force myself to smile.
I'm not afraid of silence.

Perhaps the "normal" he speaks of is actually "peace of mind."
Like white rice that you never get tired of eating every day.
Like a light that isn't flashy but keeps shining forever.

"...Normal, huh."

I mutter softly.

If that refers to a comfort that is unique to me.
Then it might actually be a luxurious word.

Next time we meet, I'll hold my head a little higher.

But
how much special effort I put in just to be my normal self,

I probably won't ever tell you.