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Jack.

Written by Pirkid on December 5, 2009
I am somewhat impatient.

If you have a minute, I'd like to tell you a bit about myself.

I am alone. For all ideals and purposes, I am content with it. I am used to it.

Before I became a isolated hermit of life, I held two passions. One was entertaining. No matter my relation to persons, I can find myself amusing or surprising them with ease.

The irony is bitter enough to taste.

...

I paused there in order to give you a chance to speak to me, but it appears as though this is a monologue. Ah, well, I'll carry on then.

In case you're wondering, my second passion is a female named Rebecca. I'll get into that later.

I face the same problems that everyone else does, as days go by. But unlike others, I enjoy no warmth of company. I reside in cold shadows.

Ick. That disgusts me. I dislike how society had made using the word shadow in any form other then it's literal form drips it with cliche and sarcasm.

But as I was saying...others have friends or associates to back them up. I don't.

I know you don't want to sit there and hear me describe my otherwise utterly boring lifestyle to you in such a monotonous method, so I was attempt to use a interesting allegory to describe myself.

I used to be very gregarious. I found social conduct exciting. I used to enjoy the company of others. Now, I only find joy in the company of myself.

My mind is very distracted by a green box on the other end of this room. I want to be it's friend more then anything I've ever wanted. I approach it.

The square does not react to my approach. Does it not notice me? Or it is only pretending to not notice me?

Which would be worse?

Up close, I realize the square is a door. I decide we can be friends anyways. I enter.

I find minor obstacles ahead. Unsurprisingly, I surpass them by avoiding them. I have done this often. There is no danger, either way.

Take that, obstacles!

I now find bigger obstacles, roadblocks. Risky to jump over. I proceed to do so anyways, on the grounds that if I succeed at failing, I can pick myself up and retry.

Success! Success at success, I mean. I find myself proud of and possibly surprised by my ability to leap over harrowing gaps.

I trip into a puddle. I see my reflection in the murky water.

I feel confused. And a bit tingly.

But mostly confused.



You aren't awaiting my continuation, are you? You're a better friend then I thought.

Possibly better then Mr. Green Door.


I briefly attempt to think of something to think. Nothing worthwhile emerges.


I haven't talked to anyone lately but at least I can solve my own problems.


Geronimo!

I see a wall blocked my path to Mr. Green Door. I am dissatisfied.

I jump over the wall.

The space ahead of me is irritatingly spacious. I walk to Mr. Green Door.

I am pleased at my above-average ability to work alone.

I now see a large staircase, with steps only high enough to be jumped to and from.

Staring at this worthlessly large staircase, I reflect on my past struggles.

Luckily, no one was watching as I hopped around like a mad man.



I search for reasons why I don't desire companionship. I settle on avoidance of the issue. I can clearly get by without others, anyways.

I find myself unable to leave the question alone. Why can I not be with other people?

I've gotten used to the idea of solving mental problems, but I still enjoy a test of physical abilities here and there.

I think back to the first day I met Rebecca. We did not know it then, but our paths converged, and suddenly, we were a team. This was before I was as reclusive as I have become today, so I had not learned to truly multitask yet. That talent grew out of simple necessity.Her approach was quiet, as was my response. The bond was instant and unmistakable. A team.

Mutual.

Perfect.

I wasn't ready to let it go.

When we faced a problem, we would solve it together. Today, I find myself solving the same problems alone.

I was unappreciative. Plain and simple. Didn't understand jsut how much I needed her. How much she needed me.

It was perfect. Everything, It was all perfect.

I..I never expected the end to come so quickly.

Crushed with guilt, I didn't step outside for days.

But she was gone.

And now I find myself alone. I can't handle talking to people anymore.

Except you, of course. You're a very good listener, you know that? Not once have you tried to interrupt.


I push myself through a checkered ribbon tied to two trees. Internally, I visualize an overexcited man yelling, "Checkpoint!"


I grudgingly consider how the ability to start over from a different perspective would have been helpful earlier in my life. Maybe I could have not lost my mother.

Maybe I could have let Rebecca never meet me in the first place.

And therefore, I continue.

The person in front of me gets up. My friend, where are you..he's heading towards the door!

What? Don't leave yet, I have more to say.

I really do!

Oh my. He turned. I see his eyes. He turns back. Walks away. They were grey. Harsh. They carried no pity.

Are you..really leaving?


For the last 7 years, I have been psychoanalyzing Jack after his mental diagnosis and breakdown. It occured right after the incident. Surprisingly, Jack recalls his life with amazing accuracy, whatever he tells me during our visits matches his records exactly.

The issue is that he never seems to remember our previous visits. Each and every week, I've met Jack, and he greets me with a overzealous welcome, such as one you would send to guests, and tells me the same things he's said before as if we're never met previously.

He describes himself as a loner. While unegotistical, it is entirly true since he has been under solitary confinement since the incident.

His stories always talk about his life beforehand, and eventually turns into a story about his loved one, Rebecca.

He understands that she died, this is the incident of course, and he obviously emits a certain vague responsibility for it. However, he doesn't recall that he murdered her. She was found buried in a
green package in the backyard of their home, evidently, it was the only makeshift coffin Jack could find.

He considers her death to be the very reason he cannot speak to people regualrly anymore. In a way, I consider him correct. The incident brought about a severe change in Jack's nature.

I must now take my leave.




The person leaves, and suddenly I don't have anymore to tell my story to anymore.
Who was he, anyways?

My mind is very distracted by a green box on the other end of this room. I want to be it's friend more then anything I've ever wanted. I approach it...



Author's Note: Based on The Company of Myself, by Eli Piilonen.

My aim is for you to solve the mystery of Jack.

Set him free.

P.S. Any grammar errors you find, please post. <3

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Pirkid

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December 5, 2009
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Comments

 
Sat Dec 05, 2009 09:09 AM [Edited once ] +

edited

I feel stupid though, that went over my head and I'm not bad at comprhending things but I am also thinking about something really important at the same time so I couldnt focus on what I was reading, maybe that's why

 
 
Sat Dec 05, 2009 09:10 AM [Edited once ] +

deleted

 
 
Sat Dec 05, 2009 03:49 PM [Edited once ] +

Pirky said: Ah, well, I'll carry on then.

Bolded comma is unnecessary I believe, unless you're trying to break up the sentence a little, is that what you're doing? o:

btw love the story.
Jack=extremo obsessed over Rebecca and doesn't want anyone else to have her, so he keeps her all for himself and later gets sent to solitude?
Or still obsessed, fight, has mental breakdown and then sent to confinement?
[Edited]Wow where the hell did ralph come from? o.o

 
 
Sat Dec 05, 2009 04:03 PM +

"Except you, of course. You're a very good listener, you know that? Not one have you tried to interrupt."

not once*

 
 
Sat Dec 05, 2009 04:04 PM +

DD, it's Jack. Not Ralph. This isn't Lord of the Flies. XD

But this is really touching...

 
 
Sat Dec 05, 2009 05:58 PM +

bloggity blog said: And now I find myself alone. I can't hnadle talking to people anymore.


handle*

Also, much confusing. Though I got it at the end. Sort of.

Since he is already insane, perhaps you should tell him the truth and watch him break.

 
 
Sat Dec 05, 2009 06:44 PM +

Waffle said: edited

I feel stupid though, that went over my head and I'm not bad at comprhending things but I am also thinking about something really important at the same time so I couldnt focus on what I was reading, maybe that's why


You should have kept it.

Goal was to expand on experimental psychological knowledge of everyone reading this.

 
 
Sat Dec 05, 2009 06:45 PM +

While I read this, I felt like I was the green box.

 
 
Sat Dec 05, 2009 06:53 PM +

Hm.

My whole feel of the blog was a happy one. Insane people always make me laugh

 
 
Sat Dec 05, 2009 07:01 PM +

This reminded me of EP. He was a dude with some memory problem. He had an accident and from then on has lost the ability to remember things he did minutes ago. Reminds me of a brown movie i saw XD

 
 
Sat Dec 05, 2009 07:05 PM +

Pirkie said: That talent grew out of simple necessity.Her approach was quiet, as was my response. The bond was instant and unmistakable. A team.
Didn't understand jsut how much I needed her.
While unegotistical, it is entirly true since he has been under solitary confinement since the incident.

In bold are the mistakes.
Awesome story, Pirkie. Very deep as usual. :3

 
 
Tue Dec 08, 2009 06:26 PM +

ugh it reflects stuff deep inside of me. Good story though.
You should look up a TV series called "The Maxx" its a story about an insane masked hermit bouncing between RL and "The Outback"

 
 
Wed Dec 09, 2009 06:27 PM +

I forgot you write. =/

 
 
Wed Dec 09, 2009 07:54 PM +

Lisa said: I forgot you write. =/


You say that like it's a bad thing D<

 

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