It rained heavily yesterday. Getting home early was definitely the right choice. I’ve been stuck in this excited state all day today. It’s been a long time since I felt this satisfied. Think about it for a second. If you kill an ant, what kind of emotional reaction would you have? I believe that, aside from truly deranged people, most wouldn’t feel much at all. You probably wouldn’t even pause. Lift your foot, bring it down, and it’s over.
I didn’t feel guilty because of it, nor did I try to justify myself. I was simply satisfying a desire of mine (that’s not a justification). The feeling of blood running across my face was wonderful. I just hope nobody saw me yesterday.
I flipped through my homework, wrote a few lines, then stopped. It was impossible to calm down again. The pen tip rested against the paper for a while, leaving behind only a few meaningless words in the end. I closed the book just as I heard movement by the door. My aunt had come back again. Her footsteps weren’t quiet, almost like she deliberately wanted people to know she was home. I didn’t look up. I just sat there, waiting for her to pass by. Only after she entered the bathroom and the sound of the door shutting echoed out did I slowly stand up, moving carefully, like this was never supposed to draw attention in the first place.
I walked over to her bag. The zipper wasn’t fully closed, and the inside was messy. I glanced at it without much thought and slipped the scissors inside (I washed them, obviously). I pushed them a little deeper in so they wouldn’t stand out too much, but not so deep that they’d never be found. The whole thing was quick. I paused for a second to make sure I hadn’t left behind anything suspicious, then adjusted the zipper back to how it originally was.
I returned to my seat and opened the book again. The pen was still in my hand, but a long time passed without me moving it once. The sound of running water stopped, followed by the bathroom door opening. Her footsteps returned to the living room as though she hadn’t noticed anything at all. Everything continued along the track it was supposed to stay on.
I lowered my head and looked at the crooked lines I had written, finding them slightly amusing. After certain things are done, the world doesn’t really change much. The things that are noisy stay noisy. The things that are filthy stay filthy. People continue living exactly the same way. Nobody suddenly notices anything, and nobody stops to take a second look. I put the pen down and leaned further back in my chair, letting my gaze drift away from the paper.
That excitement was still there, but it had already begun to sink slowly, like ripples spreading across water until nothing remains. All that was left was a kind of clean emptiness.
Quiet.
I don’t dislike this feeling.
ns216.73.217.51da2
and then Add to home screen.