Catharsis

Catharsis

A Story by The Jay
"

Sequel to Anomalies. Final part of the three-part series.

"

Cynthia went through every inch of his place after he passed away, and she found a lot of things that she didn't knew he had or expected him to have such as a little rubber giraffe, mugs with puppies printed on them, but the object that really riveted her was a diary that she found. It was a small black diary with a pen inside it. She immediately recognized that it was his because of the label on the pen, it was the only pens that he used. She did not read it right away so she put it in the box with the other things that she was going to keep with herself, which was pretty much everything.  She had incorporated his stuff with her stuff in a new place. Once Cynthia got home, she finally pulled out that diary and started reading it.

 

Page 1

I’m checking if the pen actually works before I start writing stuff. Apparently it does. I should have realized that once I had written the first word. Maybe I should stop writing now.

Page 2

A diary? Why do I even need one? I usually use the Blackberry for writing things. Blah. I want to.

Page 3

Suicidal

What do I do?

How do I not take death over anxiety?

Page 4

Loitering.

Don’t know if I want to stop. Nothing would change.

Chest pain!

I feel better, laid down, heart racing now.

Page 5

Sort of getting worse.

5 hours later.

Same thing all over again.

Page 6

Shortness of breath.

Deep breaths!

Water!

Shortness of breath came back.

Probably caused by the fear of a failing plan.

Page 7

I just need to cross that barrier.

Anger getting worse. Setback.

Page 8

Frustration.

Screwing everything up.

Constant chest pain.

Not going away.

No escapes.

Page 9

[blank]

Page 10

[blank]

Page 11

…….

Breathing’s getting hard.

Head hurts as well.

The drugs don’t work.

Page 12

Not helping.

Not helping.

Page 13

I thought I would die. It was survival instinct, to an extent. We all have it, born with it, sort of.


--------------------------------------------------------------


"Mum, was I as good as dad?"

"No, but you will be." Cynthia answered to her 14-year old daughter Jane, whom she had adopted when she was 6 months old. Jane had just finished playing Paganini's Caprice 24 on the violin, it was her favourite symphony and she loved playing it like her mother's late lover or her late father, as her mother had explained to her.


-------------------------------------------------------------------


Page 14

I need to do something insane. Insanity!

Page 15

Stability break is all I needed.

Recovering is causing me to feel weird instead of happy.

Page 16

Why am I indifferent to the recovery?

Page 17

I am a mystery. My lack of attachment to my own self is uncanny yet I am usually narcissistic and self-serving.

Page 18

Stability won’t last forever, but how long will it last?

Page 19

My zenith is below my nadir.

Page 20

I don’t feel anything and I don’t even pretend to. What does that make me?

Page 21

Sometimes I feel gifted. Sometimes, cursed.

Manic-depression, in some way, makes me feel human, like a sheath covering the shallowness.

Page 22

There is no real me, with all the changes, for all I know, I don’t exist.

Page 23

NO!

GO AWAY!

Fear of it ate me up.

Page 23

Fifteen and a half days. Whoa!

Page 24

Why do so many things feel like déjà vu?

Page 25

Is

Zenith-Nadir

Humanoid

Page 26

Too many personalities residing in one body.

Page 27

I drove life away

Was it my bicycle that swayed?

Could life just be it

Life could just be it

For all I care

I need a breather from breathing

I don’t have someone to dismember

Page 28

So engrossed in finding

I forget the essentials

Is life just a panick attack?

At the end of the day,

My zenith is below 

Page 29

My nadir,

For a humanoid it is not enough,

And I ended up a thirteen,

Cause me a pair of despair,

Wake up in my happy place,

Beside my empty pillow,

Page 30

To fly in this again,

Pleased to be cursed,

For I am happy,

Sick as I may be,

I smile,

As I bring about the death of me

Page 31

I have cracked me. I can’t leave anything unanswered, can I?

Page 32-49

Page after every page, 

Another page, 

Why is there so much, page? 

It covers up the rage, page, 

Another page, 

So much page that life would just turn over, 

Pages of history, 

Unravel my mystery, page, 

Write, page, write, 

Write me, page, 

The lines end where I began, 

Scribble, page, 

Before the ink runs dry,  

Page, fill me, page, 

Before the ink runs dry, 

Page, I'm so blue, 

Page, anomaly, page, 

Fill me, page, 

Before you're torn out, 

Fill, page, fill, 

Don't stop, page, 

Keep writing, page, 

Keep scribbling, page,   

Keep writing, page, 

Page, anomalies, page, 

Anomalies, page, 

Anomalies, page, 

Ole, page, ole, 

Don't tear out, page,  

Keep writing, page,

I loathe you, page, 

Don't stop, page, 

Don't stop, page, 

Don't stop, page, 

I need my rage, page, 

Find me rage, page, 

Keep writing, page, 

Why do you go, page? 

Why do you, go back to the start, page? 

Why, page, why? 

I am still sage, page, 

Find me rage, page,  

Find me rage, page, 

Find, page, find, 

Don't stop, page,  

Find, page, find, 

I am not afraid, page, 

Find, page,  

Find, page, 

Stop, page, 

Don't find, page, 

Don't ever, page,

I love you, page,   

Don't ever find, page,

Don't ever find me, page.     


------------------------------------------------------------------


"What was the best thing about him?" Jane asked.

"His words. He always knew what to say. He would rationalize everything and come up with the most adequate solution. Sometimes, I would realize that things were right in front of me but I couldn't put them into words."

"But he could." Jane extended.

"Yes, he could."

"What was the worst thing about him?"

"That's a tough one." Cynthia chuckled.

"It is?" Jane raised an eyebrow.

"No, not really, the worst thing about him was also his words."

"Now, I'm perplexed."

"He never quite knew what to say, when emotional factors were involved. The last thing he said to me was that he's sorry that he couldn't be with me for pizza. He wanted to say something but he just didn't know what. It was, at times, funny seeing him trying to juggle his emotions with his words."


--------------------------------------------------------------


Page 50

The most honest amongst us is the one who lies the least.

For once I’d like to pull.

Page 51

What could

Off the wonderland

Successfully

Page 52

I get off on being withholding. Maybe, but who wouldn’t, right?

Page 53

Doubt!

Page 54

Seems like the only thing I always have is doubt.

I love curiosity, doubt, puzzles!

Page 55

Then like the rest, why don’t I seek the answer? It is not fear. Maybe.

Doubt…

Page 56

Past, seems like something that was decades ago and when I say past, I mean 2 hours ago.

Page 57

Time really does fly, huh?

And even the foreseeable future seems far off.

Then why is the present always an infinite limbo?

Page 58

I am a lonely soul because I let go of everything I hold.

Page 59

I am more human than I project, than I let myself be.

Well, that is just sad.

Page 60

If I do things to my potential, I’d be Hitler.

Life is to ridicule.

Page 61

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

21 22

Hammock

Sod off!

Page 62

1)      Don’t really know.

1 2 3 4 5

Can’t write.

Page 63

Frailty that lies beneath bands with the ever-present apathy to form everything that I may be.

Page 64

 Anxiety.

Infinity.

I can give a hundred reasons and none of them would be true so then what’s the

Page 65

Truth? I don’t know and I don’t intend to find out. After all, why does it matter? Let it be.

Page 66

Let’s have dinner.

Do I like mysteries or do I like solving them?

Page 67

Cracks are beginning to show.

Page 68

What’s that word? Ineffable?

Guess so.

A step backwards, page.

Page 69

Pingabinga-a-dumpun.

Page 70

Ah, an anomaly! What a moment!

Page 71

Dear diary. Hahahaha.

Page 72

Just had to do it.

Page 73

Another day goes by…

La la la

Page 74

And there she goes.

Page 75

If only I could explode.

Page 76

Poppalingling.

Page 77

Isolation is everything I need when…

Page 78

Chica bang bang!

Page 79

Cynthia Nelms

Pingpalingpum

Page 80

Mamaloogimpy!

Shoostamiki!

Page 81

Seeing the world from a distance is both painful and delightful. There is more delight though.

Page 82

That’s it, sir,

You’re leaving,

The crackle of pigskin,

Page 83

The dust and the screaming,

The yuppies networking,

The panic, the vomit,

The panic, the vomit,

God loves his children,

Gold loves his children, yeah.

Page 84

And I slide into paranoia.

Page 85

I wonder what it’d be like to feel the same thing that I felt the day before.

Page 86

The only thing I may believe in is nothingness.

Page 87

[blank]

Page 88

No hate,

No love,

No me.

Page 89

 And in the recess of my mind, I find peace.

Page 90

Haunty

Page 91

Sometimes I wish I were dumb and naïve, but I look upon the dumb and naïve, and vanity takes over.

Page 92

When you don’t care about the people, everything becomes about your ego.

Page 93

I’ve been a bipolar for so long now that it has become by identity. Even my thoughts refer to me as the bipolar. Not me. Got to change

Page 94

That. Totsopodum!

Emily, you’re a delusion that I’ve created to replace another delusion.

Page 95

But at least there’s a chance that you can be real.

Page 96

What is this?

So uncontrollable.

It never is.

Page 97

Puzzles

Solving them isn’t necessary or was it death?

I want it to matter.

Page 98

You are me, and we are home.

Page 99

Oh rage, let me go!

Page 100

Though I have this mean drive to have a life, I still won’t mind dying. Too hard to cope. One of those times.

Page 101

Am I your prisoner or are you my companion?

Page 102

Are you a concept? My mind? Or a delusion like Emily?

Page 103

Lying gets me off even I lie less than most.

Page 104

I’m going to die alone, and I don’t mind, but I prefer to die now.

Page 105

I’d rather have someone to connect with intellectually than someone to rely on.

Page 106

In grief for the ones who are gone, don’t strand the ones that you have.

Page 107

Normal people are incredible at manipulation though it’s for dumb purposes.

Page 108

It’s not about the choices we make, it’s about how we feel.

Page 109

Don’t know if frustration is the word but it’s all I got.

Page 110

First normal phase in months, or years, or at least the first one in a long time that I am consciously aware of. Difficult really.

Page 111

If only I could explode.

Page 112

Blue.

OKAY.

The Verve.

Plastichead.

Emily.

Page 113

Sometimes I wish you weren’t me. How different would life be then?

But you are me, and we are lost.

Page 114

Be real!

Okay, don’t be.

Bleh.

For all I know, you’d be harder to deal with in a humanoid shape.

Page 115

You’re paranoid but I’m an android.

Paranoid Android.

Page 116

And you lay with her on a bed of blue and its awful sweet like the fruit she cuts and feeds to you.

Page 117

I cut her up and it’s like the heaven she made for me.

Page 118

At the end of the day, I always seem to find all the answers within myself.

Page 119

I’m already getting off.

Hahaha!

What the hell?

Page 120

Calm, babynaveni!

Page 121

Blindness!

Page 122

Vatican Cameos!

Page 123

Ambidextrous Velvateers!

Page 124

Living in misery sucks marginally less than dying in it.

Page 125

Nothing becomes something, something can become everything, or something can become nothing, therefore carrying the potential to become something again. When something becomes everything, it can either become something less or nothing. Everything goes back to nothing to become something.

Page 126

Nothing. It’s so intriguing, yet no one dares to think about it. It’s so vague and undefined.

Page 127

The theory of nothing.

Page 128

Don’t destroy the sanctity of insanity.

Page 129-141

Cynthia


---------------------------------------------------------------------


“I hope I get to annoy you as long as I live and even when, I am dead, and continue to do so in the afterlife.” Cynthia said while pinching my elbow.

“That is a heck of a long time!”

“Which is a bad thing?”

“No, I will not really mind except I do not believe in an afterlife. The end will be the end.”

“I love you.”

“That is the 31st time you’ve said it in the last 4 months.”

“So you see how much I am yearning for a reply.”

I laughed and nodded.

© 2012 The Jay


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Reviews

And life goes on.

Posted 11 Years Ago


I rather enjoyed this odd poetic piece. Some lines were so poignant. Kinda makes my head swirl. Good job.

Posted 11 Years Ago


Lovely ending. I like how the diary reads like a poem at some parts. Truly a wonderful write. Great work.

Posted 11 Years Ago


This was a great conclusion to a trilogy of sorts. I wasn't sure what you would do, but a diary/child was a nice inclusion. I don't entirely understand the child. Is she really his daughter that Cynthia adopted, or does that just hint at how crazy Cynthia has become since his death? In the first one we see more his bi-polar side than his psychopath side, and in his diary, he seems almost borderline schizophrenic as oppose to psycho, but regardless, I really liked it. Thanks for sharing.

Posted 11 Years Ago



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Added on June 13, 2012
Last Updated on June 14, 2012
Tags: Hysteria, narcissism, psychopath, bipolar, mania, depression, love, friendship, anomalies, catharsis.

Author

The Jay
The Jay

About
However eloquent I may be, I am never quite able to figure out how to fill my biography. more..

Writing
Scribbled Scribbled

A Poem by The Jay



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