NO ONE CAN UNDERSTAND ME
Caroline Havens: At Work
When I first saw Natasha, I was envious of her confidence. When I first saw Gehrmensch, I was envious of his power. When I first saw Suzie, I was envious of her introvert nature. When I first saw Pursera, I was envious of her charisma. When I first saw La Mes, I was envious of her beauty. When I first saw Momo, I was envious of her figure.
When I understood them even a little, spent time with them, or saw them on stage for a little longer, I was more envious.
Yet I want to thrive differently. On my own, but I can't find the factor that will make me unique. Not a tool but a human, out of the carbon copies.
I mastered seeing the special in others, be it good or bad, but couldn't figure out myself.
I hated those who claimed they could understand me. Isn't it simple? A person, even if walking on the same path, can carve different steps?
I was standing in front of Momo. I was angry at her, yet I couldn't be. Her intellect and ideals broke mine. The biggest gut punch was, she was my ideal once.
I'm a villain in her story, yet she forgave me. But I can't forgive her. I don't want her sympathy because then I can't use apathy.
Yet the only thread keeping me sane is her sympathy.
I need it, but I don't want it.
I want to be treated right, just living a normal life. But I can't. They dragged me here, and I can't refuse. Because if I did, I'm the wrong one. I'll be treated badly after that.
Of course, I'm paid too well, but I also want respect. A kind of respect that can be given without needing to earn it.
My every thought conflicts itself, yet I want to be simple. And when I can't figure out myself, who are they to claim it? Who is Momo to claim that she understands me.
I...
The rain stopped. Instead of going to the mansion, I accompanied Momo—set sail to her previous home.
There's nothing I can rely on.
I'm too complicated to be simple. Why can't I be like others? Or at least confident enough to act like myself.
We reached her place after a silent walk of 22 minutes.
"There it is!" Momo exclaimed, spreading her hands out in front of an old apartment. It kinda resembles my old one—just that one was new.
"I'm coming in!" I claimed, stepping inside. I felt as if a novel came to reality.
I stepped inside—the green, lush vines covering the broken furniture and walls. Roots of trees barged in from the corners, and spider webs were so common as if it was their colony.
There was a big wooden board with cracks and sticky notes on it.
"Is this the one you planned on? In the novel?" She nodded and dusted it a little. Then she removed a cover from a canvas, and it was the painting described in the novel.
[Half-sunny day slowly corrupted by the rain-fog and the silver platter of the drops.]
It looks eve—prettier but kind of more coarse than I imagined. I guess because it's in front of me with no filter or any lighting—just raw?
Momo stood in front of the canvas and began gazing at it until she had enough.
She looked back and called me out.
"Hey Caroline! You look puzzled!"
Why is she talking to me like that?
I only fear no one now.
"Who are you? Acting to understand me?"
Her smile. That stings hard, cuts through my flesh. As if she knows my words and will dissect my self-esteem even harder.
"Why can't I understand you?"
Enough. I won't hold back now. She's the one who baited.
"Who are you to understand me? If you claim to know me, then why are you asking such questions to destroy me? You're always pinpointing my wounds and digging swords. Yet YOU claim to understand me? You aren't my friend who scolds me to take me on the right path! You're so much meaner, harsher, heartless."
Her expression bowed down. Her face wasn't pity, but it was sad.
Finally, she's submitting her clown act. She's done for. I'll destroy her.
"You can never understand me. I can't understand myself, then how can you?"
Right... that's right! Who is she to understand me?
"Yes..."
Calm, her gentle voice. Again, but it was filled with sorrow this time.
"I don't understand you."
Finally, she lost—
"Now, do you feel unique?"
Huh? She...?
She walked closer and sat on a chair, her head resting, facing the ceiling, eyes closed.
"Tell me? Now, do you feel unique? Different? Uncomprehendable?"
I took a step back.
"What do you mean?"
"You know. I hate people who talk like, 'No one can understand me. Because right now, I can tell you about yourself that you know but don't want to express.'" H-h-h. I started panting, this is too much. Stop.
"You want to be desired. But you don't know your speciality. You envy everyone, but you feel guilty for that."
No...
"You want to be understood? Don't make me laugh. You want to stay not understood, but you want people to try understanding. Because that is the only way you know that you can be loved without being used. Because no one knows how you operate, but they love your mystery. Am I wrong?"
No—yes! Wr-rong. My steps started becoming shaky as the wooden board behind me stopped my way.
"People think the likes of you never trust anyone can understand you. But the reality is, you have the highest faith that anyone can understand you, your words. But you fear being misunderstood."
But doesn't that contradict her own words? She's making loopholes. I can...
"You thought understanding and misunderstanding are opposites and came to a conclusion. These two are faces of the same coin, they both face opposite directions. But have the same core."
"I beg of you, stop it." Caroline cleaned the sweat trickling down her face.
"Misunderstanding is just understanding from someone else's perspective, which you decline. You don't want to be understood, but you want to project your ideal image into others' minds!" Shut up.
"Shut the hell up. I SAID—"
"That's why!" Again that calm voice.
"You claim to be in pain of not being understood, so others drop their guard down and let you project your image in them that you want to be seen as, not who you actually are. Am I CORRECT?"
Don't ask me.
I-I-I don't KNOW!
"I don't know." I looked down because I couldn't meet her gaze.
"I can't communicate my feelings! Doesn't that already show how complex my brain is? I can't understand my own feelings—!"
I can't.
"Or is it just...
You are scared to accept them?"
I feel sick.
"Every single human is like a machine. We're working similarly, responding to different scenarios and adapting for a long-term gain."
I feel sick. I took a deep breath. These are just words, Caroline. Calm down.
"When you say you can't be understood, you can't express, you're mocking the whole concept of language and understanding. We communicate to understand each other...
Then how come?"
"Likes of you are anomalies? Or are those just a bunch of cowards not being able to accept their feelings, thinking if they did, they'll break their character, the world will look down on them, they'll lose themselves."
I feel sick. I pressed my hand on my chest seeking a little comfort, grabbed my shoulder tightly with the opposite side's hand, and hid my face in it.
"Tell me, Caroline. Your feelings. I promise to not look down on you."
Stop it.
"I promise to hear you until the end, even if it lasts some seconds or hours."
I feel sick.
"I promise to not judge you or hate you by any means."
I feel dizzy. I took the support of my hand on the wall and walked towards Momo.
"I promise, I'll guide you without any harm."
I stood in front of her, clenching my fist, and spoke.
"Who are you?"
...
Momo went silent after that question for a minute, then Caroline again asked.
"No one in this world understands me. No one in this world will not judge me. No one in this world will love me. No one in this world will hear me until the end. Then who THE HELL ARE YOU TRYING TO GET CLOSER TO ME WHEN I DON'T KNOW A DAMN THING ABOUT... you?" My eyes slowly warmed, welled up. I tilted my head and asked again.
"Who are you?"
"Yes. You're certainly right. I sent those cars after you, I once emotionally burst on you. This wise talk doesn't suit me, right? You know. For words, anyone can say whatever I said, but to really implement it is the real deal. I am not a saint or monk. I can get envious too, sometimes I can break my own morals, get swayed by my own emotions. Even whatever I said just now, I myself can at best retain 4–5% during a tense situation."
She looked down and gave a sadistic smile.
"You haven't answered me. Pretending to know me, tell me...
Who
Are
You?"