This house...
It's starting to get heavier to breathe here again. There's madness in the air, and I can almost taste it.
The problem in this house is, when one member is having a problem, s/he tends to hold it in but is trying to get other's attention while doing so. It's as if we are saying "Hey, I have a problem here. I'm not telling what kind of problem, but you should know that I have a problem."
We are of the people who want to be in the spotlight but refuse to do anything once it is shone on us.
I am easily affected by the emotions of other people, and seeing them going mad with hate and anger... I am afraid that I will end up like that, too. Already I feel like screaming and tearing things apart from sheer rage, even though I have absolutely nothing to be angry about.
This is still a place I call home, however. I have no other place to go. Until I can get out from here, or drive the main source of the problem out, I will continue to exist here in this place where everyone is hiding a crack on their souls.
People might think we are a happy bunch of people. Soft-spoken, generally gentle-mannered and nice to others, but I've seen so much negative emotions and manners from these people that I myself wonder if we are just hiding behind masks decked with a bright smile.
I am too sensitive to the atmosphere in the area around me, and to be perfectly honest, this kind of atmosphere scares me a lot. I've seen this before, many years ago back at my parent's hometown. It is the exact same atmosphere I sensed when I saw someone, driven mad with malicious intent to hurt, smashed everything he himself once cherished. This happened right in front of me, and it didn't end well. I remember feeling helpless and unable to move from the spot I sat. Even holding onto my favorite toy and being held by my mother at that moment didn't make me feel safe. The despair, the fear I felt at that time, I can still recall it. It is saved inside my head and I cannot remove it.
Scar a child, and he'll live with it for the rest of his life.
Seeing someone so close to me snapped by the provocation of the elder, making him abandon all reasons and proper mannerisms, makes me realize that everyone is capable of being very destructive, no matter how nice they seem. It is the polite ones you need to be wary of, because they hide the worst kind of passengers inside their subconsciousness.
I know that this fear is irrational, but it is an impulse from within that I cannot suppress. It is something that has been deeply ingrained into my very essence. Fear the mad ones, the voice inside me said. They are not themselves, and have given up all their controls of the body to the passengers inside them. Their eyes see you not as a proper person: they see you as an object that is constantly hurting them, and like any sensible person, they need to eliminate the source of the pain, no matter what the method they need to resort to.
At times like this, I tend to wish to just disappear in an instant. I do not want to witness that kind of violence once again, and to not feel the same fear and despair at that time. It is very unbearable, and it is only known to others who have felt it, or experienced something even worse than that. To the ones who haven't, this might seem trivial, and I know that I would feel the same, had I not see the scene unfold before my very eyes. However, this really affect me and now that I think of it, I always cringe whenever I meet that person now. The other day, he patted my head and commented how much I have grown since he last saw me. He was merely doing something that he assume as the most suitable friendly gesture for that moment, but all I saw from him is someone who once thrown away all rational thoughts and doesn't seem to regret that he did it once.
I need to erase that image from my mind, I know. That happened around sixteen years ago, but if I can still recall that moment and the emotions I felt that time, doesn't that tell me that it is something I need to fear of? My instinct of self-preservation kicks in, and the natural response for me is to run away from the source instead of destroying it. Am I a coward to run away, or am I a strong person for withholding the desire to strike it down? I may never know. Or perhaps, there is no real answer for that question.
I have nowhere else to go for now, and the madness still hangs in the air. I have nothing else to do but try to drown my fear with music and books. I know that no one will hurt me here, but I can't help but keep glancing at the door. In case of someone brandishing a knife to barge in right now, I would like to see the expression on their face.
Is it of fear of being abandoned, or is it a gleeful smile of someone who is about to eliminate the one thing that hurts him?
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