How is insanity formed?
It is a question that has been on my mind ever since I had an encounter with a strange, unnerving man who kept on muttering things I could not understand. He said that I was the one, insisting with increasing fervor that it was me. He was shaking, eyes bloodshot and hair unkempt. Despite the suit he was wearing, implying that he at least was an educated man before... whatever happened to him made him like that, he acted insanely and not at all like a man who seemed respectable at first glance.
It wasn't the first time I've seen anyone like that. There are many people like that on the street. The Philippines isn't exactly a rich country. There are still street kids and adults who sleep on the street or made their home at the sidewalks. It is common, though not that much in some places. Though the ones I've seen on the streets were sane, only extremely unfortunate in life. I often give out food when it's payday to at least help them even a little. There are only a few crazy people out on the street especially as the government often brings those people to the hospitals that would specifically cater to them. After all, they weren't only a danger to themselves but also to the people around them.
But it was the first time I've ever been truly accosted like that. He was aggressive when he jumped me and wouldn't leave me alone. His grip on my arm was tight and I had a hand-shaped bruise as a result. His mutterings continued, voice increasing until he was practically shouting right at my face. Thankfully, a police officer was around and helped me get away from the man.
I was shaken that time. My sweat built up and I felt the heat from my back and even my hands were shaking. It had rattled me. The suddenness of it truly shook me up. It was only my natural calmness that helped me settle down.
That was the only time I've seen that man, but a year already passed and I still couldn't get him out of my mind. Maybe because of what the police officer who helped me told me when I went back the very next day to ask about what had happened to the man stuck around in my head even now.
He was reported as a missing person for a week. Before that, he was a businessman. An educated person. Someone who knows what to do to succeed.
Only a week since he was gone and he returned like that.
How is insanity formed?
It is a curious question. One that I did not even bother researching about as it was too close to home.
My mom though was not insane. She just has Alzheimer's disease. Though at times I do think she's insane. I try not to think about it much. She's still my mother and despite all, I love her. Besides, even with her sickness, she had never forgotten me.
Not once. She forgot everything else but me.
It baffled even the doctors. Because apparently, it isn't uncommon for a person that has Alzheimer's disease to forget their family once in a while. But my mom hadn't.
I never knew what to think about that.
Just like I didn't know what to think about that man. Was he even really insane? He acted insanely. He sounded insane.
But his eyes. There was clarity in them. I remembered it vividly like it had just happened a while ago. His eyes were sane when he looked at me even if his mutterings sounded crazy. Telling me over and over again that it's me and that he finally found me.
I admit that those words shocked me for a bit. I felt a sudden bolt of fear even though I did not know the reason why.
Can an insane person be sane? Was that man perhaps knew what he was talking about?
I pushed those thoughts out of my head once again, just like what I have been doing ever since I started thinking about these things. Not only do I not know what that was about, I also do not know how to find answers. The man was gone and even the officers do not know where he had gone.
I shook my head to clear it. This is my first day in my new job. A secretary for a law firm. Just a few more years and I can take the board exam to pass as a lawyer. For now, I need to work. I don't only support myself but also my mom.
When the elevator finally opened I stopped for a second and stared. It's not that it was full. In fact, it is empty. Suspiciously so for a place with many employees. I looked around and there wasn't anyone who looked to be in need of using an elevator. I stared at it again, reluctant to step in.
Not only is it empty, it also has a full-size mirror in it.
I don't like mirrors, I never have. I don't like looking at my face. It makes me uncomfortable. I only do it when it is necessary, like looking if my face is okay, my lipstick doesn't smudge, I look decent in my clothes... things like that.
I don't know why. It's just been a part of my personality ever since. I don't even like touching mirrors. The surface feels... slimy somehow. Invasive.
Don't be an idiot Cara, I told myself. It's only a mirror. Stop procrastinating. You can't afford to be late for your first day. Think of the first impression.
Despite what I've been trying to tell myself, I don't feel secure. Still, I can't stay here like an idiot. Also, I can't exactly avoid using the elevators just because they have mirrors in them. The office is on the top floor. No way was I willing to use the stairs in a 14th story building. Feeling deeply uncomfortable, I stepped inside. Almost immediately, like it has a sensor built into it, the door closed, the 'ting!' sound making me shiver. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up ominously.
It somehow felt final.
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A/N:
This is a really old idea. I'll just put it here so it can see the light of the day.