The Siren Went On

Room 328, Academic Building 2B. First time meeting our Lexicology teacher. Turned out she was a pain in the neck. I wanted to sleep but there was blood running through my head. I couldn't stand her any longer but her asserting voice was everywhere. With each sentence she uttered I was trying to rebuttal her. And then, I gave up. Whatever, this was just the first lesson, sooner or later I would be worn out. I looked out of the window.

At 3 o'clock sharp Air Raid Siren went on: it was September 18th.

The siren was vibrating with something suppressed in my heart, it seemed to me, for at some point i felt like crying. If there was any patriotism left in me this was the last bit, persistent and deep. 

The storm of injustice used to batter this vast land and its people - my ancestors, who silently buried their sons and daughters, and lived through a lifetime of confusion without understanding why. Only one or two stories of woe left, told generation by generation in the most impersonal manner.

Though these were only my reveries, they still sent a warm current through my eyes. Quit it, that was too far away...I thought, beginning to picturing myself. I saw me like the protagonist of a movie, gnawing the last bit of a steamed bun as hard as a rock, standing in the gusty winds of a snowing street. Scorching tears were rolling down my face, while the rest was boiling at the back of my nose, and like a fountainhead of power it was sending strength to all my limbs.

Nothing, nothing stirs a human being as much as shame and a sense of being treated unjustly. That moment I have the power only a mad man can summon, and I have to desire to slit of throat of any one walking toward me. The quickness of the knife thrilled me, and the gushing of blood entertained me, and the slaughter went on and on...

But I was prisoned, inside my facade which is more normal and conformed than anybody. The only thing I could do was suicide, but by doing that i contradicted myself: when the self which was deriving pleasure from slaughter was eliminated, the act became a fallacy.

Fate...There is no such thing as fate, otherwise i could just give up any struggle and flow with the tide of it, and between the time when i was wake from my reveries take a look at where it had carried me. Even if i am carried to a world of darkness i would not be sad, because there was no sorrow or remorse when there is no choice to begin with. One never regret some choice made totally by others. Fate is too good to be true.

Rather, as the existentialists suggested, we are created and then abandoned in the world, left alone to working out all the rest. And now I am feeling the huge of burden of it growing heavier and heavier on my shoulder, and I am alone. No one in the world is looking out for me, no one is out there making sure anything be fair to me. Anything can happen. I might have just missed the chance of my life, by simply bending down to tie my shoe.

The pressure of the world is on my shoulder and yet i am still green. What can i do? Now I can only pray, that all that I've done was not in vein.