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daniil's Journal: About a boy 8

Journal by daniil
There's this boy i used to know. He once said something very strange to me (and another friend of mine who happened to sit at the same table with us): he said he was afraid of happiness. It sounded funny at that time, but when i later thought about it, i realised he had been serious. You could see it in his behaviour: whatever he did, his own happiness was always the last thing on his mind. Other people always came before him. He would sometimes even go as far as to sabotage himself. I don't think he ever hurt himself on purpose, though. I guess it was because he was probably afraid of pain, afraid of being hurt. Or maybe he just didn't take pleasure in it (do self-cutters take pleasure in hurting themselves?).

Then that boy disappeared for a while -- for a few weeks or so. And when he came back, he had changed. I'm not talking about the sun tan he had -- he had changed inside. This change (these changes?) also reflected on the outside, in the way he looked. You could also hear it in his voice. And it was incredible -- incredible how much he had changed over those few weeks.

"What happened to you?" I asked.
"I fell in love," he said, smiling.
"With whom? With someone you met when you were away?"
"Not with whom, but with what."
"With what then?" I asked, baffled.
"I fell in love with the Underground."

And then he told me his story. He told me how he had, for the first time, ridden an underground train. How he had felt claustrophobic at first, as it had been so dark outside. But then the train had emerged from the underground, and it had been a most extraordinary feeling for him. At first, he said, everything had been dark. But then the darkness suddenly had become to recede, turning gray instead of black, and the next moment everything was white. And then, from this whiteness, emerged the green grass and trees of the suburbs. It was, he said, as if he had been Enlightened.

Of course he lied. I could see it in his eyes -- all the time he was telling me this story, he never looked me in the eye. He kept avoiding my gaze. So i instantly knew this was not what had happened to him. Well, it probably had, but it was not the thing that had changed him. It had been something else. Something else had happened to him that had changed him.

...and here i am now, sitting here, trying to figure out what it was.

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About a boy

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  • is about control. Here self-control (as compared to satisfaction derived from domination) and more specifically validation of our basic urges and that of cause and effect.

    The c&e part is due to proving to the cutter they are still autonomous, independent and willful. This comes from a sense that not only is much of the cutter's life controlled by others but a sensation that their actions are actually pointless (e.g. your job just sends paper into the either, you make a meal no matter how good you will
    • I think one of the scariest moments in my life was the one time i actually cut myself a bit on purpose (i've done it a million times by accident; there's scars from knife cuts on all my fingers). Back then (it was... maybe three or four years ago, during a dark period in my life), i thought of suicide quite often -- not in the sense of planning one (i never got that far), but just contemplating whether i would be capable of committing suicide.

      I was almost certain that i wouldn't -- not because i was afraid

  • He could have been lying, or maybe he felt stupid telling you the story, or that you would think it was stupid. Or maybe the squirrels in his head were telling him, "Stop! Don't give out the secrets of the undergrounndddddd!!!" Heck he may not even know. Excuse me, my squirrels are telling me to go get a candybar (one with nuts).
  • Because it sounds like you mean it. It also sounds like something you might make up.

Elegance and truth are inversely related. -- Becker's Razor

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