like a moth to a flame

like a moth to a flame

if you know me, you know that I’m a fan of true crime. if you follow me on twitter, you’ve probably seen me keyboard smashing about cases that makes me fuming with anger. I watch documentaries and videos and listen to podcasts on cases over cases like I’m addicted to being a web sleuth and reading into these monsters who butchered other human beings like they did not just slaughter one of them, one of us. I watch to true crime youtubers while at work, in PIP mode. I listen to true crime podcasts while I commute to work every single day – my weeks have revolved around crime cases lately and to say they do not take a toll on me is a complete understatement. 

sometimes, I feel like I’m Betty Cooper from Riverdale, complete with her dark tendencies and Nancy Drew-like interests, minus a poetic wordsmith boyfriend that is. jokes aside, I am huge on mystery and psychology, especially when it comes to understanding the mind of a killer despite not having any background studying criminology. psychology has always been an interest of mine. I wanted to study it in college but my family, forever being unsupportive, told me that psychology does not pay bills. life woes aside, I’m still interested in psychology and understanding why a person kills and whether or not serial killers are nurtured or made by nature. high profile cases like Ted Bundy, H.H.Holmes and Jeffrey Dahmer are big names you often find in media today – like Netflix, for example, when they came out with that Ted Bundy documentary everyone was talking about the moment it got released – and while those are interesting topics to explore, they’re not the ones affecting me.

it’s the cases that are seemingly…mundane that really affects me. I once joked about true crime cases turning me into an emotional Pisces and while it was only a twitter joke, it held a little bit of truth. I spent days discovering true crime youtubers and watching them consecutively every single day during work and possibly at home as I unwind has made me feel things I cannot convey. I feel strange, sometimes paranoid as I walk pass strangers as I board the MRT or public bus yet a part of me feels an obsession and an inexplicable thirst to just… drown myself in these cases. 

I research, and boy did I do a crap ton of research. it doesn’t matter if I’m seated in the bus, or the train or even in the restroom – I. am. obsessed. and this obsession is a double edged sword. I wonder if this is what detectives feel when they’re highly affected by the case they’re investigation. maybe this is why some detectives failed at marriage or committed suicide out of grief.

there are about seven billions of us in this world and there’s no way to tell if the person we just talked to or the person who walked past us is completely innocent. I’ve found myself observing people whenever I take public transportation, both out of fear and curiosity. sometimes, when it’s one of those days where I feel like strangers are obnoxiously standing too close to me or when their eyes seem to met mine, I get hot and cold flashes and feel the anxiety crawling in. perhaps it’s due to my social anxiety and my inability to look at someone in the eyes. I can’t help it though – certain things and experiences just remind me of all the cases I’ve researched.

my boyfriend has been telling me to take a break. the crime youtubers I watch and subscribed to even admitted that certain cases may be too difficult to digest hence requiring whoever’s researching it to take a break. I know, I know… I probably should stop writing this useless rant post and start taking a break for myself, for my mental health but…. I did and nothing has changed much. I pretty much jump back on into true crime and have it filled my mind to the brim again – rinse and repeat kinda thing, you know?

my relationship with true crime cases is like a moth to a flame. I will always be obsessed with them, even if some of these monstrous cases made me feel sick to my stomach. I don’t think I can stop researching and it’s probably due to my fascination with psychology and criminology in general. people think I'm crazy for having this interest and I don't really blame them. but it's kind of ironic when you think about it, since profilers and criminologists are also hunters for crime cases and all the monsters walking among us. I guess there is attractiveness in the gloomy, moody parts of the world – it's like Lana del Rey on crystal meth mixed with a dose of poison kind of thing.

a part of me also thinks that the more I read into how these psychos lure their preys, the more aware I can be when it comes to my surroundings. sure, paranoia doesn’t look good on anyone but if you ask me, maybe paranoia is this doubled edged veil that’s been keeping me alive on the street. it’s just sad to admit that even to this day, women are required to be even more alert than men when it comes to walking alone in public.

so in the end, if you think I'm going to stop reading into these cases, I probably won't. you know I won't. but there's a line I need to draw, one that's going to keep me sane and one that I call moderation. there is stability in moderation and that is exactly what I (think) need to do for myself.