Cascading Sorrows: Locked Inside

The Psalms/ Chapter 1: In the living room where I’m comfortable or, Early writings on a white-washed Wall

Dostoevsky once said, “I have a diabolical possession--that of self-poisoning.” Beyond the grim gifts that nature (as if a joke was at hand) has granted me, moored just as deep as talent, lies my “cursed vice”(ibid). The latter indubitably intends to destroy me.

Although for now my phantoms are locked within a closet, planted inside of my mind, I suppose that even a minor release of these powerful demons (even for a breath of air, allowing them to venture from their inner voice to the outer realm) would probably ruin any hope for me in general.

Whispers in the wind

I fear silence for she tolls

Too heavily on my mind

Her demanded payment the reliving

Of a past better left forgotten.

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

Rain

Let me drink away my sorrows--

High away my pain

No one can hear my cry--

Because I’m trapped inside

Endless rain.

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

“Sub conservatione formae salva anima.”-- “They faced a sea of shadows with the idea of exploring what it contained.”

Shall we once again enter the haunted chambers of my mind?

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

Juggernaut. These headaches are killing me. It’s like a freight train ripping through my head. It’s an unstoppable object, once it starts it doesn’t stop until reaching where it wants to go! My mind is refusing to take heed to my resistance. It’s 2:30 am and I’m sitting here with a shot glass and a bottle of Jamaican rum. I wonder if I’ll fall asleep? I hate this quiet time, it’s always so lonely, so void of everything, it almost puts the world in perspective--then again….

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

I am a social misfit. Bete-noire. I hate this world---this life. I despise living in this bubble all alone. I see reality and I acknowledge her--I just can’t be a part of her--this kills me inside. I created this outer covering--pain made it hard--now I’m a turtle trapped in her shell.

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

My mother has fiddled while Rome has slowly burned. Only now, when this great city has fallen and been reduced to ashes, does she reach her had out to offer help. Too little too late. I’ve crossed the Rubicon, I know where I’m going and I know where I’ve been; and I know which is the better of the two.

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

Oh Poseidon, oh Luno you Dionysian powers; my ocean is raging without remorse/hesitation--why do you not take leave? Oh I’m a descendant of Odysseus, of the mighty Aeneas and thus condemned to tragedy--to the prolonged death--sorrow.

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

Vortex

My emotion is an ocean

Occasionally I’m so stable that a disturbance cant be seen;

Standing, not demanding, peaceful and serene.

This is my calm before the storm.

My precious few moments when I can feign to be among the norm.

Sinking into abysmal pits

Deeper and deeper where is this bodies floor?

On my surface the pounding hits(from the outside world)

I’ve lost all sight of any shore.

No life saver here, I know the end must be growing near.

But then I jump--higher and higher I go

The waves splashing to and fro--

Raging in my head--chaotic revelries of the dead

A tempest sweeps through the night--

Symphonies of destruction appear in the light

No need for sleep no desire for rest

Exploding energy creates a sest

Pool of merciless hostility,

No matter where I go, I’m still a prisoner of me.

Thrown around--tossed with every blow--

constantly switching ground

But always morbid though!

No conscious control! Why? Sadness. Madness.

where is the relief in this world?

The truth?

I am an ocean.

I am.

Why?

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

To what depths have I been

To what depths will I go

This pain inside of me burns

But the world will never know.

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

Ravenous creatures rip at my mind tormenting my every thought. Furious claws thrash through my moments of rest.

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

Adieu 9/4/98

Death kisses my salty fingertips in derogative harmony. Embraced by pain and torture, I tolerate the endowment of everyday life. I function in an alternate dimension, one separate from emotional distress. I detach myself slowly from all reality.

Haunted by years of violent ghosts, insanity inevitably hosts my future. Trusting soldier you betray but this is expected--memories deflected, I am lost.

Old and faithful friend, I blame others for becoming dependent on you, now I realize that it was I alone, that chose to live like this.

Feelings--a sick social predator that I held so “dear” the chaste are harmed by my silence, my knowledge, and my fear.

Mutilators of my most sacred temple, you cannot ruin what is already destroyed. Blood teardrops mix with salty-sweat terminating the fatuity of my existence.

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

Addiction

When I was younger I thought I was immortal,

But now with each passing day I realize how human I am.

Words rush through my mind eventually morphing to confusion.

What am I doing? Where am I going? Where have I been?

All of this seems so insignificant.

I sought an escape, and finally I found what I sought,

And it’s at this point that I questioned why I searched at all.

Funny how something that in one instance makes you invincible, destroys you in the very next.

Journal entries:

1] Most of us are self-centered creatures who find it much easier to replace the friend rather than to fix the problem. It tolls far less on the mind to find the fault in another than it does to look in the mirror and see err. Hypothetically there are many solutions to this problem however, it is more dependant on whether people are willing to a)control emotions b)think things out and, c)actually take the time to follow a method to resolve conflict. I’m sure that if we were not such emotional Beings, we would “think before we acted” (50% of the conflict) and, after that--if we still came to a disagreement-- (still denying our natural instincts of rage and hurt) then we could spend yet more time to evaluate and communicate.

2]“Everyone is prejudice towards someone or something but this does not necessarily mean that they discriminate against anyone or anything!”

3] The evaluation was fatuous at best! How can you attempt to ascertain, to any degree, how heavily a persons environment (responsibilities etc) will toll on their mind? It takes a trained professional doctor months-- if not years-- to even begin understanding what someone goes through-- on a day to day basis-- and even then their findings can not truly tell how much is too much for a particular individual.

4] I know that you must believe in yourself and that you are capable of taking control of your own life (mostly thinking rather than environmental). I also know that sometimes you need to sit back, take a breath and analyze your environment, your inner thoughts/values, and your actions.

“the things you fear are undefeatable not by their nature but by your approach.”(Jewel A night without armor)

5] I’m quite fascinated by the perplexity of thought…madness versus extreme intelligence. Am I eccentric or insane or both? The behaviors of a genius and a madman can be surprisingly similar. Both toggle great things with “clarity”, neither has any perception of what’s going on around them (consequences are temporarily diminished and life’s necessities can take a back-seat role to the project at hand). Both are marred by deviations from the norm; so who accepts either? Answer: no one! Does it matter if one is insane or, brilliant beyond the understandings of the laymen? Probably not!

Outcasts… tormented and tortured by others who refuse to accept anything but themselves. Sit on the outside never able to be a part of society. Profound really, isn’t it? This corruption of thought so greatly cursed seems to spring from a similar place as the genius mind. Are they one and the same? Does it depend on the practicality of what one toils with? Ney, People just hate what’s not usual…

6] Who am I? This is most certainly a problem man struggles with. Many of us spend our lives searching for the answer, don’t we? I mean think about it, aren’t we constantly learning new things about ourselves (as we develop a Self)? One of mans true fascinations in life is Self discovery. I honestly believe that anyone who claims to fully understand himself is a belligerent fool.

7] How do you think about what you feel when you think nothing, feel nothing? I’m locked in an emotional void. It’s like someone pulled up a cloud and parked it in my head. Once in a while a few sparks of pain or anger glimmer but other then that there’s nothing.

8] I wish that I could say let’s just hop in the car and drive far away from our troubles, far away from our minds… unfortunately, life isn’t that simple. I know of no road that offers such an escape.

9] I went searching for happiness. I got lost. When I finally found where I had perceived it to be, I realized that there was nothing there.

10] Finally stabilized. It’s been months of being slammed from one extreme of madness to the other. I feel so calm, so clear, so normal. It’s like I’ve awoken from a really long, really bad dream--only this is my reality. The time during the episodes are always a blur.

11] There has been a battle raging in my head but, finally, a truce has been made. The tiny vessel of my mind has been tossed to and fro in this tempest for 3 long months. It’s over, the storm has ended. I am stabilized.

12] Flying, dying without sleep, when does it end? When will Damocles’ remove this sharpness from my brain? Every path I choose leads me to another crossroad; sadly, all roads eventually go back to Rome.

13] I have brewed in my sorrow until I burst. Crying a river of desperation. I have percolated through the cracks of reality…now only madness remains.

14] I just can’t take it anymore! My illusion of control is gone--yet my vision of my place has never been more strongly portrayed. I see more of the whole, I see, but I can’t handle it--I can’t stand being trapped in my solitary confinement (which I myself have created). Insanity I thought you’d set me free…but now you further imprison me.

15] They’re constantly gnashing, chewing away at me like a pack of hungry wolves. They have no mercy--they’re bitter, ugly people. They hate, love has no meaning to them. He growls, she picks, they feed off of each others snapping--they feed off of my misery. I’ve asked to be left alone--but that’s too much, I guess. I’m their scapegoat, their blame-all punching bag. I have no feelings, no emotions, no life--I am dead in their opinion, and yet they continue. Why do they hate me so much? I don’t understand. I just don’t understand. My head hurts so bad--why do they have to be so loud?

16] Have read close to 50 books this month. The depression must be settling in because it’s getting harder to read. I’ve come to the conclusion that this is a biological thing. Although I’m still maintaining my positive interpretations of the events of the day, I find these(or any) events becoming fewer and fewer and myself becoming slower in thought and action. I’m feeling tired and am losing time. This scares me a little, especially concerning my old desire to die young. In a way that self has died and, I have to remember that with my “rebirth” came a new life which possesses far more freedom than ever before.

17] It’s like I’m calling out in darkness and no one hears me--and if they do they do not respond. I’m filled with self-doubt today.

18] My struggle. A battle rages within. I am in conflict with my environment and myself. Turmoil--I fight with reality, with existence; this is a war that I can not win. Chaos dwells both inside and out--where is this control, I have lost my illusion of it. I suffer, I want to find peace. Raging rivers in my head flood me with sadness, I am lost drowning in my own obscurity. I am the victim of my mind.

Chapter Lost: A bookcase or The Sorting out years

LOSS:

Another family holiday. Once again my mom and I have the responsibility of carrying on the torch of our families past. It is said that, “she who has given much, is loved much”. I truly hope so! I’m surrounded with memories of Christmas’s afore. I think all those who have gone before me. I remember uncle Jessie, grandpa Irwin, grandpa Paul, uncle George, aunt Louise, aunt Evelyn, grandma Bert, grandma Rogers, and closer to me my best friends…grandma Joyce and aunt Velma. 18 members gone in a raid of death.

I think of the traditions of how we always used to open presents: first at home with my mom and dad; then, run over to aunt Velma’s across the street where grandma Joyce and Velma had presents waiting for me to tear into that morning. I remember how at noon we always went to my great grandma Bert’s and met up with all my mom’s side of the family and we ate Christmas dinner and then opened presents and stayed all day just sitting around and talking by the old fireplace and lighted Christmas tree. The Amish would come later on that night and bring fruit dishes and cards to Bertha and Irwin and wish all of us a Merry Christmas and stay and talk for a while.

  We always laughed and joked with them as they pretended not to notice in awe all the moving decorations and figurines that were on display. Things were different then…but now, we must make new traditions. We must look ahead rather than drag behind. The family is all dead or moved away and there’s just my mom, dad and myself. My father works during the holidays; so, it’s primarily just my mom and me. How different it seems.