No 2: THAT STRANGE FEELING
IMAGE BY @DOOGLOOPS
VICTORIA CASTILLO
Sometimes I will have these moments when I forget all the constructs we have built as
humans, whether that is language, technology, or social customs, when I realize that
everything we’ve invented—the lives we are living—come as a consequence of trying to
distract ourselves from the fact that we are strange beings, standing on a strange sphere in
the middle of the blackness. We are an enigma, a mystery, something to not be trusted.
When you live in the mundane world, it is easy for everything to become
mundane. It is quite easy to lose yourself into becoming a mundane person, drained of
intrigue and mystique. As plain as a brick in a wall, as insipid as a mound of dirt in the
ground. Many people have lost themselves by believing this is what they are, thus they
become it. They believe they are not magical, they believe they are too scared of
achieving their greatest height, so their potential atrophies and they become
unremarkable, common. It is also true that many people, unfortunately, are born common.
They have no spark. No energy to them, no quality that makes goosebumps crawl up your
arms when you meet them.
But some places and some people, some things still have that spark to them that
reminds us of that strange chaos we try to desperately escape from, and when we look at
them, it is like we are staring at extraterrestrials. We see the universe in their eyes. We
feel an indescribable form of electricity at their touch. They are wild, and ancient, and
enchanted, no matter how hard they try to distract us with their modern clothes and
vernacular speech and pretend-simplicity. The closest word for this feeling is eerie. If you
are swimming in a lake with someone like this, you can see it clearly. They may appear
normal at first, but when you sink your head into the water, come back to the surface,
open your eyes and stare into theirs, they do not seem human. But rather, they seem
ghostly.
And when they leave, the feeling they give you disappears with the force of
mundane life. Like a slap to the jaw.
I wish that I could experience this feeling more, to fully immerse myself in it until
that’s all I know. But I don’t live in a strange place or regularly interact with strange
people, and I lean towards the mundane. After the feeling fades, I return to my learned
behaviors, and it is almost like I have a mask glued onto my skin that shouldn’t belong to
me. A mask of rules and blandness and routine, one that everyone wears in order to deal
with this chaotic, confusing world. I try to rip the mask off my face, but it only comes off
when the feeling hits me. I cannot control when it happens—it is always unexpected.
But I experienced a tiny sliver of the feeling today on my way to school. As I
walked through the sequoia trees, not only did I feel the strangeness—I felt fear. I
couldn’t explain it, but I suddenly became on edge in a way I never am. It was the distinct
feeling of being watched. I was expecting to turn around and see an ominous presence
standing before me. Dark clouds unfurling in the sky like stains of black paint on a
canvas. Or perhaps a tall figure with murky features, unknown and indescribable and
certainly not human.
But I didn’t turn—because when the feeling consumes me, I become so fascinated
by it, yet so repulsed by its strangeness that my only instinct is to run. A part of me
wanted to stay, but it was so suppressed by the primal urge to escape the situation as
quickly as I could. It happens every single time, and I always regret it.
Maybe the feeling doesn’t exist. Maybe it’s an obsession with something that isn’t
there, a desperate excuse to find a form of meaning in life. Or maybe it’s a bad thing to
experience it, an omen. Something bad will happen. A sign that a malady will flock upon
you, like a crow coming to perch itself on your shoulder. And it is only a matter of time
before the clock stops ticking and you fall down.
The thing is, I cannot recognize if the feeling is dangerous or not. And that is why
it terrifies me.
