Jerry's Diary

A man speculates on what his younger cousin's last diary entry meant.

Ever look into a beetle's eyes?  Weird right?  Ever think about all the snowflakes in a snow bank?  Too many.  Crazy huh?   Ever smell a fresh pepperoni, right from the package?  Mmm, Right?

This was the last paragraph in his diary.  And the first one too.  Meaning he only wrote one, if you didn't put that together.  It was strange too because he had been such a somber young guy.   An engineer at heart.   A real cum bag according to the bullies at school.   He never smiled and answered every question like he was on who wants to be a millionaire; long pauses, deep thoughts; even if he was asked if 'you want fries with that.'  That kind of personality can really piss people off.  Especially today, when we get everything so quickly.  I feel bad for women; I bet men are coming faster. Then again, maybe women are too.

And yet here it was, the last and first thing he ever wrote before he jumped off the bridge into the Westfield River.  Even that was stupid.  The bridge was barely high enough to kill you; in fact people had attempted to kill themselves off that bridge before and survived.   A swan dive would do the trick.   A cannon ball though and it might only break your a*s.  It's hard to imagine Jerry diving. 

We didn't even know he had a diary.  Well why would I?  Cousins don't tell cousins they bought a diary the one time a year they see each other.    

My theory is he went insane.  Not like sad, depressed insane, but f*****g bonkers insane.  Like seeing women in the yellow wallpaper insane.  He had all the necessary traits - genius IQ, horrible social skills, arrogant, lonely.   But he wasn't always like that.  I remember we saw him at Hanukkah when he was around twelve and it was like something had overtaken him.  His nose had grown an inch, his face was more pimple than face and he didn't say a word the entire dinner.   The pimples faded after a few years and his face grew into his nose but he kept the brooding silence up until the day he decided to pack it in.   Before that though he was just my smart, funny, younger cousin.

My theory is those last words were him trying to be normal.   What he thought a normal seventeen year old would write in his diary.   The thing is, he was so clueless he didn't realize that a seventeen year old boy doesn't keep a diary!   It's like psychopath trying to fit in by wearing a suit to school.   "See, I'm normal, right?"    

His mom, my aunt, thinks it was drugs.   What drugs exactly and where he got them, she can't say.  Just Drugs.  That's all she says.  "It was drugs!"   You can see where he got his disconnection from.  Jerry was a likely to take drugs as a third grader at t-ball practice.  Meaning Jerry probably didn't know drugs existed at all.  In fact I remember asking him if he ever smoked Mary-j and he looked at me like there was a f*****g n****e on my forehead.  Like I was speaking a different language.   I said, "You know, the greenery?"  Nothing.  He didn't say anything.  He just stood up and walked away.     

He was without a doubt a genius but he never figured out how to fit in, or, more importantly, let his mind out.   But like I said, I think those last words were him just trying to be normal.  Practicing.  When he wrote that first word I don't think he planned on killing himself.   I think he had probed his brain for hours, thinking of exactly what a guy his age would write and that's what he came up with -what amounted gibberish basically.  And after he finished those last words, "mmm, Right?" I think he reread what he wrote and thought, "well, this is never going to happen" and called it quits.

Reviews

[VALORMORE DE PLUME]

Wow, Som this is totaly awesom. What a refreshing read for me. Don't think it has mass market appeal but I Identify with the mindset. I love the fact that you use original examples to discribe the images you want to plant in the readers mind. I find this style brilliant. (that is the first time I used brilliant in a review) Be honored. I am very much like Jerry. Writing has opened a door to the inner sanctom allowing people in and for me to get out. Thank you for sharing.