Fear and Humanity

by Chua Han Au

When I confess by stating that the clamorous crowd is too overbearing, I get castigated. Thrown into an abyss of utter shame. Acquainted with affliction. Strengthening my disbelief that extroversion is the best mode of communication in our lives.

It’s as though to articulate internally is seen as dubious, for the iced voices can never be heard by others. The public abhors what is covert. They detest what cannot be seen. They loathe what is equivocal. Yet humiliating enough, they intentionally consign to oblivion about a very humanistic feature. Personifications of blocks of wood, they fail to see. They fear in acknowledging the innate pangs of fear awakening within them. The apprehension of the manifestation of fear into an uncontrolled malevolent entity, possessing an incredible ability to obliterate that painted confidence and annihilate that pretty soul.

People are the same.

We’re all fearful. And the biology of it has it such that it should be an adhesive. But humans misinterpret, utterly blinded by self-vested interests. A burgeoning and insatiable desire to push their beliefs across. A corollary of failing to realise that all things are interconnected. Akin to magpies, humanity is wholly lulled by the imperishables that are no better than sheer paper and are weak to flames. They exploit fear, drilling in the already hollow trunk into smithereens.

Perhaps there’s a reason why mad people perish quicker than the sane. We fear them because they’re eccentric. Yet, it is that they are divinely conferred a gift far from being urbane, but one that is highly profound which our mere fallacies and tainted souls have resulted in an inability to fathom their intellect. I was once told, that the insane see something in the sane that the latter is blind to. Truth. Humanity hitherto has constantly feared the unknown and this is our hamartia. We think of ourselves as quintessential creatures; more intellectual than any other. Relentlessly condemning the unknown and carpeting the perplexities. We think we’ve put out the fire, but truth is, we’ve slaughtered the prodigies.

Mayhap until we see blood, we’ll never know that we are all reflections of the same kind.