Witnessing Insanity

Not only was it my first time witnessing a murder, but also my first time seeing someone doing it with a straight face. His eyes were focused on the man hanging by the rope while his face kept the same expression of boredom from the moment I saw him. It was like a man trying to tell two stories at the same time without mentioning either of them. Was he an angel sent from above, or was he a demon that crawled up from the depths of hell. Who knows? It no longer mattered, as it no longer bothered me; neither emotionally, nor morally. When I looked in his eyes again, I saw the eyes of a man dedicated to his work more than anything. I saw a man who loved his work even if his work was widely hated. I don't know what was going through my mind, but strangely enough, I was having fun. I was having fun seeing a man being hung from a ceiling fan in his own apartment. I was having fun seeing a man struggling for his life, not even able to cry out. I was indeed having fun, enjoying the view and losing my mind. If was in that very moment, I stopped judging people for what they do. Instead, I started judging them for the things reasons they do such things.