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My life this past few weeks has been like one in the movies, where the protagonist get suspicious about everything and everyone around him and so he's always at the edge. A slight touch from anyone and I'm swinging with full force, ready to land a blow that would knock that person out. But you see that is my life, the life of an over thinker. I always thought twice about everything, even things I shouldn't care about and it was gradually starting to drive me insane.
The whole thing got worse the moment war started brewing in the country. So far, the government had not been able to identify if the unknown gunmen that terrorized this part of the country, so I saw everyone as a potential threat.
I always thought to myself that any one of this men could be working for the terrorist group and anyone of them could have an explosives vest on them right now. I even tried to minimize the amount of time I went outside after I had tackled a man to the ground when his wristwatch beeped right next to me. It turned out it was an alarm and he forgotten to turn it off. The cops had let me go with a warning after I had pleaded with the man. Everyone knew how tensed the environment was so they understood a bit of how I felt.
Three days after that had happened, an explosion had gone off at that same location. I remembered how terrified I felt when the news reporter said the bombing had been carried out by a suicide bomber. I was so terrified that I made sure I only went out when I needed to restock my groceries and I never went out without my pen knife. I knew there was little a pen knife could do compared to a bomb but I could always slit the throat of the suicide bomber before he gets the chance to activate the bomb or so I thought.
But I knew slitting anyone's throat wasn't the real deal, the urge to not die could give me all the boost I needed to do that, the real task was identifying the bomber in time for me to kill him or her. To me, everyone was a suspect. The lady with a child sitting right next to me could be using the child as a camouflage, and then there was the man with a brown bag who had jumped on the train the last minute as it was about taking off. I studied him closely as he walked past me, my bag filled with groceries in one hand, and my other hand ready to pull out the knife any minute.
I prayed silently, hoping that he would be just another passenger who couldn't wait to get home like me and when the train finally got to my destination, I had jumped off it faster than I have ever done in my life.
Remember I said my life was like a movie, well this movie was a scary one.
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