that figure in your peripheral

I have been wanting to post this thought as some kind of result of experimentation. But it happen in real life and was in real time and result may vary. So don't ask for your money back if this so called remedy doesn't work.

I am not a fan of horror stories or movies, and after watching 'The Grudge' I don't intend to continue our relationship. Pun intended. But that curiosity is always there, clawing at me, enticing me to sneak a peek. The figure in your peripheral. Never really in your focus but bugging you like eye bugger. And when that one-second flash scared the crap out of you, it's too late to feel sorry for yourself. And it takes time to wiped that junk from your database, like a bad case of virus.

Now there were some times, that those one-second flashes didn't really affect me. And here's a case: I was very sad a couple days ago. With everything that happens surrounds my husband. I felt frustrated, upset, sad, all mixed into one. I understand my husband. I understand the care group people. Yet I know that the both sides 'speak different languages'. I'm stuck in the middle not knowing how to 'translate'. Before long, one decided to burn the bridges of friendship and the other helped fanned the flame. Both were right and both were wrong, but in the middle of finger pointing, both failed to see the other four fingers that pointing at themselves. And trust me, nobody will say that they are at fault. And I'm tired to be the middle ground. I didn't even agree to the meeting to begin with. So that was that. I came home in a crumpled mess emotionally. Worn out by senseless battle of banters. I've been saying quite a number of time that I'm tired of people. I like my role as a bystander. I'm just a witness - but with their guns blazing they were not looking at where they're aiming. I must say that they're not aiming perfectly, hence 'civilians' down. Call the medic!

And now I am a ghost. A crying one. The TV was on and the volume was loud to drown my sorrow. Then it came. The Ring's ghost, Samara, waved her appearance, asking for attention - plus other freak shows. Their music were intentionally haunting. I cried harder. The volume really good to buffer my sadness. And with all those stricken contorted face and bad hair day, I can only blamed the girl for getting herself into that stupid situation. I was too absorbed to be affected. Maybe it jolted me out of my reverie, but then I continue wallowing. It only stopped when I saw the exchange between Simon Cowell and the 'saved' Matt Giraud. Then my attention is secured.

So there you go folks... When you're sad, you throw your creepy crawlies out in the wind. I rest... my case.