Anger

When I was there, I saw anger in people’s faces, they never liked that version of me for some reasons. We talked, and they couldn’t believe it was me, they wanted to stomp over me like old times. Why? I remember those people, their hidden anger, what was they trying to do? When I’m away, I could sense people staring at me. It was one of the two events I attended they planned for me. I went there with so much happiness, but I didn’t feel like old times, something was wrong there. Something was burning inside them, their words had that, and in there I saw someone’s stare, so powerful than every other eyes. Those eyes demanded me to talk, but why? Despite all the efforts I did, on my own, I never had a flock or herd or anything like that, I was like always, walking alone, the only response was that stare after close to a decade. My history at that time was stained because of some idiots, but I never connected the dots, I didn’t know the information will spread at that speed. Why everyone is so afraid to talk face to face, straight forward? What would cost them to do that? Instead, they want to be in the background, hidden. It is nice to go through the days you lived over and over again, the things you missed, the things you didn’t pay attention to, to connect everything, to create stories, and finally something to write. I want to explore my past, to get a better picture of everything, and the good thing about that is no one can be there besides myself. The things I have saw, the things I talked, and it’s impacts I didn’t think of.