i left my work and i wanted to have some rest for a little bit,
but thinking about money and other things just making me feel rushed.
there was this murder in my town when i was little,
5 year old kid got killed by his dad, and his dad killed himself after that.
when that happened, i was the same age as the kid who got killed.
at that time, obviously i didn't really know what was going on,
too little to understand the whole situation.
his dad was running a Christian kindergarten in our town,
but it got closed down right after the murder happened.
i was in pre-school before i entered the first grade,
and many kids transferred to my preschool because of that.
i bet the adults around us didn't really know how to react to or explain the situation,
and i remembered it was just awkward just not knowing any facts as a kid.
when i was in 3rd grade, me and my friends were playing and walking through the town,
and 2 of my friends stopped right in front of this closed building with a playground behind.
we entered (we were punks as a 3rd grade) and started playing,
and then those friends told me that they used to go to this place,
since it was actually a kindergarten before, and they told me the reason why it got closed down.
even though the actual murder didn't happen in the building,
i got really scared, i felt that i've never got so close to any places that had such a dark history behind,
but my friends were just playing like nothing happened,
the place was just a part of their memory as a "fun place" they used to go to,
but for me, the place suddenly became something else, something dark and scary.
as i grew up, i occasionally thought about the incident,
what really happened,
also thought about the worst scenario as well,
just naming things that might've been involved that i can think of,
madness, cruelty, beliefs and religion, stress, psycho, hate, love, incest, etc.
for something that didn't really involve me directly,
i just live off the image yet not knowing any facts,
and some mediocre thoughts just grow and grow.
last night, i told my boyfriend about the murder after we talked about some book
since the story reminded me of the incident.
and then this morning while i was sleeping,
i felt something on my leg, it felt like a little kid crawling up on my body,
and suddenly i couldn't move or say anything.
it happens to me when my body is tired,
but maybe my curiosity, and talking about the incident loud was too much led it to it,
i felt weird, but wasn't scared anymore.
people do still remember what happened,
some people remember it as a horrible murder that they really don't want to be close to,
but i know some people remember the kid, the place, maybe his dad, as their warm memory,
like my friends, who didn't get scared at all when we were standing in the shadow of the closed building.