HOW TO FAKE NORMAL

READERS REVIEW

The story went live last week. I didn’t expect much—maybe a few polite claps, a pity share from Jules, and one comment from my aunt saying “Proud of you, dear!” with a heart emoji and a typo.

Instead, it exploded. Not viral-exploded. More like “accidentally lit a scented candle near a pile of emotional baggage” exploded.

The comments section became a therapy group.

One reader wrote:

“I laughed, I cried, I questioned my life choices. Then I bought a planner that says ‘You tried.’ Five stars.”

Another said:

“This book made me feel seen and slightly attacked. I loved it.”

Someone else asked if I was okay. I wasn’t sure if it was about the character or me. I replied with a donut emoji and moved on.

Jules printed the reviews and taped them to my wall. “This is your fan club,” she said. “You’re the president, treasurer, and emotional support mascot.”

One review simply read:

“I want to be friends with whoever wrote this. Or at least borrow their emotional support stapler.”

I considered making merch. T-shirts that say “Chief of Calendar Feelings” or mugs that read “Emotionally volatile but well-hydrated.”

Maya called. “You’ve struck a nerve,” she said. “People want more.”

“More what?”

“More you.”

I stared at my laptop. It blinked patiently, like it knew I’d come back eventually.

I opened a new document. Title: How to Stay Real.

First line:

“Step one: admit you’re a mess. Step two: monetize it.”

Jules peeked over my shoulder. “You’re writing again?”

“Apparently I’m relatable.”

She grinned. “You’re a walking mood board.”

I smiled. “Let’s give them something to cry-laugh about.”