A Self-Study Within A Broken Mind

I came back at the end of the day. After checking in on Rebecca, who was sleeping on the hammock outside, I created a form and entered the house to find the terrible trio, my mind of the past. For them, time stood still. In fact, time was still frozen around the house. The clock on the wall wasn’t ticking time anymore. It felt calming to be outside of time, even if only in my mind. This was a space where I could pretend I had no expiration date, there was nothing to keep me disciplined. I had no age, no rules to follow with regards to time. And yet, this escape was only created TO escape the predicament of Finnelgamin. I needed JJ to figure out how to get rid of him. Before that, a predicament of the outside world pulled me away once again. break At the start of a new day, I came back to an opportune spot of the real world, and yet the surroundings seemed to be screaming at me not to do this. I could only turn up my music and proceed into the place where time stood still, where the l...

Notebook 1 “This is stupid, isn’t it?” I asked of something without form. #For now,# I thought. It had no voice, no thought. I sought a shell in the void, something, someone who could be what I needed. Was it human? I’ve told myself many times that I had no need for someone like me, to like me, be with me. They would only be in danger by association, prey to the beast lurking within my mind. No. This was different. My mind did not fracture to contain it. It would not be within my head, only reach my mind once in a while for my betterment. I sought salvation from the void, help from something, someone that I could not hurt as I am. Before long, I heard something in the dark. “Hello?” It asked, a voice of no discernible source, of no discernible gender. “Is someone there?” I hesitated at the response, surprised to hear someone answer my call. It was MY call that brought it here. I had to say something. “Hello,” I said. “I am here.” “What is this?” It asked. “Where am I? How did ...

“It’s time for us to go our separate ways, Finnelgamin ,” he says, once more with a pen at my neck. “Did you enjoy your life? Did you enjoy all the memories that will remain unsaid to the readers? They are your own private moments, and you have ownership of them.” My writer, my author, my friend. If I could, I would bow in gratitude. You gave me the life I wanted, and though it was rushed, I’m grateful for every second of it. A great life is measured in wrinkles on the face, and when I smile there are many. “It pains me to do this,” he says. Nothing could ruin this place in my life. Nothing except- A whiff of deceit wafts around my mind. No. This can’t be a dream! No! All those memories of my children are mirages created to only hurt my mind further. What have you done, JJ? Why? “Yes. It is all just a dream, but your final resting place, my friend. I leave you here, at the end of your tale, a story that never ends.” NO! MY STORY HAS TO END! I have to see her again! Fiona’s out there i...

I support the idea, JJ . You have your character, me, tortured in the story, begging for a way out. I want out, too. The story you’re crafting for me has become a strain on the reader, on the character, and on the author. It’s about time to abort this before you burn your mind up. “The writer, or author, often has to torture the written or the character,” he says. “Besides, what would happen to you if I just shredded that weave? The ‘you’ under the covers of my invisible shroud would know of that erasure, the future that never was. If you think that would not bleed over to the different ‘you’ in the story, you’re being dumb.” Then just erase that part and- “I’m not cutting out my work, Finn,” He interrupts. “There is an ending to this story. You might not like it, but I'll decide how it goes.” alter So he returns, reads over the recent events to catch himself up and lets me speak once more, pen at my neck. What have you come here for? Don’t pretend you want to write about me right ...