CatharsisA Story by The JaySequel 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?
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 JayReviews
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4 Reviews Added on June 13, 2012 Last Updated on June 14, 2012 Tags: Hysteria, narcissism, psychopath, bipolar, mania, depression, love, friendship, anomalies, catharsis. AuthorThe JayAboutHowever eloquent I may be, I am never quite able to figure out how to fill my biography. more..Writing
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