I don't really wanna share much about this or reveal too much, but here's a little hint of little Cythia.
As a little girl, I seemed no different than any other young girl (well perhaps with a slightly higher IQ).
However, I've always enjoyed capturing, trapping, harming or torturing. I loved mean words, and cruelty. Although I feel bad after that and the sense of ... Victory(?) was really short-lived.
I thought I'm way past this little fetish(?) or more of a sickness, but today a simple thing as capturing a lizard made me think otherwise.
Before I caught the lizard, it was at the corner of one of my kitchen cabinets. It was pretty difficult to tap it at that angle. Before I attempted at it, I told myself that if I succeeded, I'll slim down and become thinner. And then a rush of adrenaline.
BAM!
I smashed the lizards head with the corner of my container. It was not a nice sight. Especially when it's tail fell off a wriggled some where below my arm.
Fast forward to now, I actually caught an ant and took the risk to open the container quickly and put the ant in to feed it.
Then I'm heading off to bed now, I told myself to let it go.
I have difficulty convincing myself to actually lift the container and set it free.
Couple of times I was at it, and I gave up and left the kitchen in the end.
What does it say of me?
Ps. Just a snippet of my bizzare life.
3 October 2015
Singapore
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