Truth, lies, and insanity

Helen Huang, Staff Reporter

I don’t know who to hate any more!

There’s She-Who-Yells, whose screams and shrieks hurt my ears a thousand times worse than a banshee’s could, pinging off the walls of the house, echoing off, fading, fading, only to start up again after a wavering pause. I can hardly catch it, but there’s desperateness in her cries, isn’t there? There has to be! She is my heroine. She is my rock. She has to be the victim in this nightmare! If there’s no victim, then there’s no one to hate for being a victimizer!

Then there’s He-Who-Shrugs-It-Off. He’s calm, solid, tired, almost bored of She-Who-Yell’s act. Only it’s definitely not an act–anyone could tell that much. How dare he just stand there? How dare he has the audacity to not ask for forgiveness, or apologize, or at least ADMIT? The truth is right there–even I, a sniveling child too young to even be called a tween, know that! How dare he! How dare he! HOW DARE HE, THE DAMN TRAITOR! I have never cussed until now, but NOW is a worthy time to start!

There’s one more person involved in this. The wicked It. I won’t clarify, but all I can say is that It is three things, among others: a liar, a good actor/actress, and another traitor! A liar, because in these situations, you eventually discover that your whole life has been snatched by that person, crafted into a paper world of tissue lies, and then set ablaze–destroyed– by the fire of almighty truth! An actor/actress, because that same person hid behind a happy facade while they stole and shaped their victims’ lives, put on the nice, smiling mask of a trusted friend while they helped me kick off my teen years with fear, fury, and insanity in my veins! As for being a traitor, well, there has to be at least two traitors in these cases!

Wait, forget what I said before. There’s another I blame. Another to hate! In fact, I hate her to the very, very bottom of my heart–to the deepest inner part of my bones–from everywhere from my little toes to my curled-up fists, to even my confused and almost mad mind! She is always so despicable, such a coward….always taking cover instead of running out to stop things, or dashing away and holing up in her room while the real battle rages outside! Or is the fight inside her? I’m not sure! I’m not sure of anything, and I hate it! I SHOULD KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT MYSELF, BUT ALL I DO IS WHAT I’VE ALWAYS DONE: RUN OFF, HIDE IN MY ROOM, AND CRY!

I want to find a friendly face somewhere. I want to “Be Strong!” like the Internet bloggers say, or “Discuss This With A Trusted Adult!” like everyone advises, but how? The Internet also lectures me that this isn’t my problem, so I shouldn’t intervene, it’s not my place to tell the truth…and I can’t discuss this with a trusted adult because how do I know who I can trust? No use going to a counselor–it “Isn’t my problem!” And I’m aware of that! It isn’t my problem! I’m not involved! But why, then, do I still feel the affects of “the problem”? Why, then, do I blame myself in some way–for being too whiny, too demanding, too divisive, too grumpy, too childish…for being the one who sparked “the problem”? Day after day, night after night, year after year, I still question myself: Was it some horrible fault of MINE?