Torture
The pain in his stomach and chest were probably the result of the two pints every lunch, bottle of wine or two every night for the last two weeks mixed with the sleeping pills, tranquilisers and beta-blockers. He was not handling life very well and was becoming reliant on such support to calm his mind. He sometimes wished it were more serious so that he could have some respite from the continuous torture that had become his daily life over the last weeks and that was being inflicted upon him mercilessly. A little crushing pain might take away those feelings of guilt also, maybe they would forgive him a little for the heinous crime he had committed. Maybe if he had some sort of infarct that would be sufficient revenge and it would leave him be, but maybe he’d have to die horribly to absolve him for his deeds. He used to think he knew about such things but these weeks had made him question everything, the absolution was perhaps a forlorn hope. He was probably doomed to eternal torture which was becoming more self-perpetuating and from within with every day.
All those weeks and months ago it seemed such a challenge and an ego trip. Could he get what it seemed everyone desired? Could he overcome a cruel nature, and tame the beast? He didn’t know it but it was about to tear him apart. It would also appear that the hunt for the dream was impossible as it subsequently showed it had no mercy. Or did the pursuit create something so sinister so awful, something bigger and stronger than it could overcome?
What dangerous games we play with people’s emotions, not knowing what our actions might conjure up in a mind. When intelligent but fragile minds interact the result can be bigger than the individual parts, and be truly chaotic indeed. The stimuli provided by a simple situation can release mighty demons in such circumstances. A hunt for closeness and affection together with it’s associated niceties can get so out of control in the hands of such beautiful minds, so it seemed.
Obviously a gross error, but the monsters were created and venomous poison flooding into his life. Threat after threat and insult after insult reigned down and after weeks a weak mind was struggling to cope with the assault and the possible consequences if the threats were realised. The contradictions and uncertainties were having profound effects, would it be better to confess all to his real love or even face the crush. The inevitable resultant cascade of events in his personal and work life were leading to a feeling of devastation and hopelessness; anything would be better than this surely? He could live in a hospital bed and blame everyone else, like everyone else, for his plight. That unfortunately is not possible for some and he knew that he needed to survive himself first.
He stared out of the carriage window, the painful flashes rapidly coming to him. Looking around, everyday people with everyday lives; what he wouldn’t give for his normal life back. To read the paper with mindless stories, or just to close his brain off for a while. Instead he was finding solace in the pages of Dostoyevsky and Goethe. The more he read the more he saw how the thinking was working and what the next step in the torture might be. He had convinced himself that this would go on for years, always threatening to spoil his life. How could he have been so stupid, so hurtful to the one true love he had ever experienced? A blip or something inherent in his nature that had just surfaced, he might do it again, he questioned his love, his dedication, his staying power? The last 5 weeks had been a nightmare on one hand and a rebirth of his love on the other, one threatening to destroy the other. Those fears constantly refuelled until his mind was self-supporting in its destructive abilities.
Self-destruction.
All those weeks and months ago it seemed such a challenge and an ego trip. Could he get what it seemed everyone desired? Could he overcome a cruel nature, and tame the beast? He didn’t know it but it was about to tear him apart. It would also appear that the hunt for the dream was impossible as it subsequently showed it had no mercy. Or did the pursuit create something so sinister so awful, something bigger and stronger than it could overcome?
What dangerous games we play with people’s emotions, not knowing what our actions might conjure up in a mind. When intelligent but fragile minds interact the result can be bigger than the individual parts, and be truly chaotic indeed. The stimuli provided by a simple situation can release mighty demons in such circumstances. A hunt for closeness and affection together with it’s associated niceties can get so out of control in the hands of such beautiful minds, so it seemed.
Obviously a gross error, but the monsters were created and venomous poison flooding into his life. Threat after threat and insult after insult reigned down and after weeks a weak mind was struggling to cope with the assault and the possible consequences if the threats were realised. The contradictions and uncertainties were having profound effects, would it be better to confess all to his real love or even face the crush. The inevitable resultant cascade of events in his personal and work life were leading to a feeling of devastation and hopelessness; anything would be better than this surely? He could live in a hospital bed and blame everyone else, like everyone else, for his plight. That unfortunately is not possible for some and he knew that he needed to survive himself first.
He stared out of the carriage window, the painful flashes rapidly coming to him. Looking around, everyday people with everyday lives; what he wouldn’t give for his normal life back. To read the paper with mindless stories, or just to close his brain off for a while. Instead he was finding solace in the pages of Dostoyevsky and Goethe. The more he read the more he saw how the thinking was working and what the next step in the torture might be. He had convinced himself that this would go on for years, always threatening to spoil his life. How could he have been so stupid, so hurtful to the one true love he had ever experienced? A blip or something inherent in his nature that had just surfaced, he might do it again, he questioned his love, his dedication, his staying power? The last 5 weeks had been a nightmare on one hand and a rebirth of his love on the other, one threatening to destroy the other. Those fears constantly refuelled until his mind was self-supporting in its destructive abilities.
Self-destruction.
posted by Camp David at 5:23 AM
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