A Very Secret Chapter

Act 4 Chapter 3

The most confusing part of my life was the second I turned 15. I was shown a dangerous type of love; a rare one that only form under certain conditions. If the timing is right, the pressure is big enough, and there’s no significant leak, I swear you’d be singing along to the same old chant about how much solidarity you have in your heart. You’d harmonize with the whole batch, all singing the same tune about how much this home means something to you. You made a name for yourselves and you gave it meaning. Something to take pride of because no other class did it like you do. For a brief moment of time it worked on me. I figured what it takes to be part of a home, a real Home, not a Guest House. Although I had to admit there was something off about this kind of love. And it makes me feel a bit ill still.

One moment they showed up with a maroon jacket putting on a scary face banging the door and started counting backwards. They’d ask things about you and your commitment regarding this Home by screaming at the top of their lungs. They were really passionate about keeping it afloat I suppose. They took you to an empty classroom they transformed just a while ago, and the lights were all off. They were blessed with keen eyes and the sharpest tongues. One wrong move and you’re done. If you genuinely did nothing wrong, well, that was when you’re wrong. They’d find something wrong about you anyway.

After approximately an hour of intimate bonding session with your seniors you left that place with either a new fear or a new will. I still can’t tell the difference. But if you want to see an Easter egg, you should go back upstairs to where you had just been shown love. They were nothing like the devils you just met. They smiled at you. They’re polite at you. They’re a mirror of you. They laughed and joked as if nothing had just happened. As if it were just a regular Monday for them where they get to do their part in this wicked tradition. As if a life altering event had not just happened. They just unknowingly and unwillingly inherited their scars to us. And we’d do the same thing next year. And the next. And the next. Until AI gets super intelligent humanity ceases to exist.

Isn’t it funny, that the only taste of love I’ve ever got, was abusive, avoidant, or both but with extra steps?

I was torn apart. I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted anymore. I knew something was off. I knew playing with fire was dangerous. I knew full well this love was bad for my health. But what if that’s what it really is? What if I’m just a very difficult child with behavioral problems that no one can love? What if the meaning of belonging, to feel at home, is to be walking on broken glass? Afraid of making a mistake? Afraid of falling short of their expectations?

What if it’d make me strong like they promised?

What if it’d make me mature like they promised?

What if it’d correct me like they promised?

What if it’d make me more caring and more in tune with myself and everyone e lse? If so, why does it always bring me down?

I was a coward for not showing up for them. I was self centered for not remembering all of my friends’ names. I was irresponsible for not doing what I was told, even though I swear I loved you guys the same. I loved this home the same amount of love, I just did it differently. I kept the house tidy and organized for when a guest came over, while you slapped the children for not doing what you wanted. I wasn’t remembered nor recognized for the hard works I put on anything other than the bonding period where we talked about nothing but the sins of our children. My legacy was simply an avoidant “ghost” member of a lively home transcending space and time. My legacy, was nothing more than a name in a database.

Was I naive for feeling a little bit pissed? Was I selfish for feeling the slightest of envy and self hatred; that if I were born into a Home with a Loving Family I might be just like them? I’d be sure of what I want. I wouldn’t be easily shaken by the sharpest of words. I’d be brave! Strong! Responsible! Mature. I’d be happy. I imagined myself in a solid steel body, unburdened from my weaknesses. Finally, someone dependable, someone lovable. Now that I think about it, that does sound like a machine catered to your needs.

I too, seek to become a machine myself.