Who is the Real Madman? Man, Know thyself!
These days, I’ve been going through a lot of things that have been making me emotionally distressed. I get provoked easily by any slight attack I get from people. I just needed some space; I just wanted to be alone, if possible, in another world entirely, to leave this wicked world for good.
As a result of my difficult situation, I appeared tattered and unkempt, making it look obvious to people around me that I was going through difficult times. But Who is the Real Madman?
One day, with my tattered dress, unkempt hair, and depressed look, I decided to take a walk outdoors—in the streets—to enjoy the cool breeze of nature and to unburden my mind of worries.
I sat down on a small fence with a neatly dressed man who rested an old black bag on his lap. Laying on top of his bag was a book, in which he was busy writing things I couldn’t see nor comprehend.
“What’s my business anyway? It’s his business,” I thought, looking away, feeling less concerned, while still enjoying the beautiful and interesting view: how animals fed on the ground, with some pursuing themselves, children running around and playing on the street, people passing by, some talking, relating to each other, and more. It was fun watching these scenarios.
I would have to say that watching the way humans and animals live, move, and act in reality is more interesting than watching the scripted actions of humans on Television.
As I beheld the beautiful view of nature with a fake smile, I noticed beside me that the neatly dressed man had been writing for the past hour. This time, the man caught my interest in wanting to know about him and what he was doing. Probably we could be friends, and he might just be of help to me in one way or another.
“Hello, sir, and good evening.” I greeted him with a plastic smile on my face. He turned his head right sideways to look at me, also smiling, with his full brown teeth widely open. However, he didn’t give me any response.
“So, what have you been writing since?” I asked him out of curiosity, feeling less concerned about his lack of reply to my greeting, only concerned about knowing what he was doing. I moved closer to him, to try checking what he was writing. He responded by trying to hide his book from me so I wouldn’t see it, then faced me with a very stern look and said to me angrily, “You are mad!”
“Pardon?” I replied with a confused look.
“I said you are Mad!” He repeated more angrily, standing up to face me while I remained seated.
Oh No! I couldn’t take the insult from him anymore, so I stood up to also confront him: “It is you who is mad!” I replied to him loudly and angrily.
This quarrel between me and the man got people interested. Passersby began to stop by, watching us fight; some videoed us with their phones, while others laughed. Then, I began to wonder in anger why people would see two men fighting, yet all they did was stare, video record, and laugh. Even children?!
“You and your generation are mad!” The neatly dressed man said it to me again.
Telling me that my generation is mad angered me more, and out of anger, I slapped him.
My action of slapping the neatly dressed man provoked him; he confronted me, tearing off my already tattered clothes and scattering my unkempt hair.
As we began to wrestle each other, some men came around to break up the fight, all holding me and then leaving the neatly dressed man.
The neatly dressed man all of a sudden started dancing, smiling, and revealing his brown teeth to everyone. I became even more shocked seeing this. Should he not be shouting at me angrily, trying to confront me again? Why was he dancing and smiling all of a sudden? This got me angry even more as I struggled to free myself from the hands of the men holding me.
After successfully freeing myself, I ran to the neatly dressed man, who also ran away from me. As I tried pursuing him to get him, I noticed the people watching us laugh, this time more loudly.
“See another madman in our street!” a small boy shouted, pointing fingers at me, as he and his friends started laughing at me.
“What! I am not mad!” I responded to the children, moving towards them, but they all ran away from me. The men grabbed me again.
“Don’t leave him; hold him tight before he causes more trouble on the street,” an old man said to the men holding me while I struggled to free myself, trying to make them understand that I was not mad.
Thanks to my friend, who knew me well and came to my rescue, helping me make them understand that I was not mad. He explained some other things to them about me and begged them to let go of me. They respected and believed my friend because he looked responsible and sane with his appearance. They then released me and went their way.
It was then that my friend made me realize that the man I was fighting with was the actual madman. He is popular and known by almost everyone on the street. He is seen on that spot every day, writing nonsense. So, as we fought, everyone assumed we were both mad, for how could a sane man like me be fighting with a madman?
Besides, I was in a torn, tattered dress with unkempt hair, so who would believe I was sane? It happened that the madman was dressed neatly as a sane person would dress. And me, as a sane person, was dressed like a mad person. It also occurred to me that the only reason people were laughing was that they were getting entertained by our insane actions. It was like a comic movie to them.
The real madman was dancing with his exposed brown teeth, not because he was mocking me but because he was just insane. He also ran away from me, not because he gave up the fight but because he was insane and knew not what he was doing.
I failed to realize and was not sensitive enough to know that my reaction was uncalled for, and it was with a madman I had been exchanging blows and words with all along while people were entertained by the sight.
All my actions were done merely out of emotion and provocation. I felt so ashamed, like I was the real madman.
LESSON:
Don’t be quick to always react violently to words said against you. Many times, silence is the best answer you could give to such words.
Try not to be quick to react out of emotion. At times, we react to issues without thinking or being sensitive when we are emotionally agitated.
When you are emotional, it is not a time for you to react, start fighting with people, or not take care to make it look obvious to people that you are emotionally troubled or going through something.
You can always seek counsel first, pray, or allow your mind to be at rest so you can think straight before eventually reacting to any issue at all.
