Perceived Insanity

Don't Give Up

Nayona packed her school bag and turned in the last of the day's assignments. She thanked the instructor for helping her, as she always tried to do at the end of every day. She tried very hard not to blame those around her for conforming and being happy with their lives. It was a choice to go against the government, and certainly not an easy one. Then Nayona frowned. She had chosen to conform. For the first time, she was honest with herself. How it hurt, to admit she was no better than they. No, she had done worse, for she had gone against what she believed in. As she left the classroom, she sighed and sat down on the bench in the hall. She needed to think.

For much of her life, Nayona had prided herself on how she knew the difference between right and wrong. Now she was beginning to realize that meant nothing unless she used her power to make decisions rightly. In rejoining society, was she conforming? What had become of her reasons to leave? Nayona wondered if it was possible to know whether a decision was right or not. She had done little good in her garbage dump. She shook her head, resting her chin in her hands. She knew what was good and what was not. The question that lay before her was whether her choice reflected good or not.

Nayona was ashamed of her own pride. She had nothing to be proud of. She had made the choice to conform in joining society, and in doing so had gone against what she believed in. To acknowledge this to herself certainly did not feel like a burden had been lifted, nor like the truth had set her free; she felt more trapped and lost than she had originally. This confused her, and it confused her that she found it confusing, for truth is meant to be something that shines brightly and bestows understanding on its beholders, rather than something that creates more questions than it answers. In particular, she wondered if there was a way to live in as a part of society while maintaining her integrity.

Footsteps sounded on the linoleum floor, and Nayona looked up. She was in no mood to be interrogated by some concerned passer-by. The figure approached, and Nayona saw it was a young woman not much older than she. Their eyes met for a moment before recognition filled the face of the other girl and she hurried away. As she left, Nayona could see shame flicker across her face. But shame was unimportant when it did not affect one's actions. Nayona let her leave, then grabbed her bags and ran home. She lived with her parents once again, but as an adult. When she arrived home, finding her parents gone for the evening, she sighed with relief and entered her room. She had long ago packed the electronics and propaganda-filled books into a box, and stuffed the box into the recesses of her closet. In a sudden fury, she kicked her desk. When she saw the paint had been torn slightly, she smiled with satisfaction. How she scorned her comfortable life. She lay on the floor for several hours, hating everyone. She hated the girl who had run away, and all her other friends who likely would react the same way. She hated her parents for failing to understand her choice to leave in the first place, and their continual gratitude for her choice to return. She hated the instructors who taught her lies. She hated the government. She hated everything.

She hated herself, more than anything else. Once, then over and over, she punched her thighs. It did not hurt much, but, to Nayona's great satisfaction, it fed her hatred. Nayona knew at that moment her choice had been wrong. As this knowledge manifested itself, her anger left her and was replaced with sorrow. She curled up and cried, wishing her choice had never been made. Her hatred for everyone else was replaced with love; her hatred of herself with shame. When she felt too empty to cry anymore, she stood up and began her homework. Her assignment had been to write an essay on the benefits of individualism, so she wrote it on her reasons for considering a community-centered society to be better than an individualistic society. She would no longer write lies when truth was so important. If this resulted once more in becoming an outcast, so be it.

When her homework was finished, she dug one of the phones out of the box. It was not evil. It could be used in such a way that would be wrong, yes, but it could also be used for good. With a heart full of joy and certainty, she texted the friend who had so rudely ignored her earlier. She explained her restoration to the status of full citizen and certificate-bearer. She offered forgiveness, and a restored relationship. She explained her friend would find her to be not quite the same girl she had once known.

Her friend, an old classmate named Rebecca, responded a while later, shyly and tentatively. Rebecca was not sure what to think. She was not sure she wanted to be friends with Nayona after her friend had done something so unthinkable. They had so little in common. But she could not ignore her old friend's text, for reasons she did not fully understand. She did not think her shame was so great it required her to apologize, or even talk with Nayona.

     The two girls texted for a long time, then they decided to say goodnight. Rebecca went to sleep almost immediately, but Nayona lay awake long into the night, thinking. She thought about her old friends, and everyone else she had known from her childhood. She considered her decision to use her wisdom and her beliefs for good, and to act in agreement with her values. It was difficult to remind herself of why doing so was important at all. It is strange how it is more difficult to do what is right than to fall into the ruts of small evils. It is more difficult to convince oneself of the benefits of a good choice than to rush headfirst into a bad one. Nayona wondered for a long time why making a good decision had to be so difficult.