Existence
"Remember
this, --that very little is needed to make a happy life."
Meditations. ii. 67
…Woman…
"Earth’s
noblest thing - a woman perfected."
Irené
I’ve
tried to explain, to others, and myself why I feel the way I do. Why there’s so
much anger and frustration that I just can’t let go. Thomas tried to help me
get rid of it but even he wasn’t very successful. He might have been, of
course. I guess I’ll never know, now, whether he would have been or not.
My
relationships with other people could never be considered as normal. Although I
don’t like to admit it, even to myself, I push people away when I desperately
need them to be close to me. Only two people have ever really realised that -
Sydney and Jarod. Perhaps Angelo too, but I’m not sure about him. But I’ve
suffered in my life and I try to convince myself that, by hiding from emotion,
I can also hide from the pain that it causes. I’m not sure that it works, but I
can’t give something like that up now.
I count as
success only the utmost of what I set out to achieve - a perfectionist, I
suppose that makes me. I won’t tolerate failure from anyone, least of all
myself. That’s something that turned a lot of people off me. Jarod was the
first person who refused to be repelled. I guess working with someone who was
just as much of a perfectionist as I was meant that he wasn’t even aware of it.
He just accepted it as part of me. He was the only person I’ve ever met who
could do that.
I’ll never
really understand what changed between us. I suppose part of it was the person
that I became. The fact that he was no different after so many years, and I
wouldn’t allow myself to see that it was because he wasn’t allowed to change,
meant that I saw him as the child I first met when I was only nine years old.
But was there one event that changed everything? I’m not sure. If I ever knew,
then I’ve repressed the memory deep down inside. I don’t want it to escape.
I’ve been forced to relive so many memories since Jarod escaped and they’ve all
brought back so much pain that it almost makes them unbearable.
My childhood
was never normal. When your parents are hardly ever around, you soon develop a
life without them. If it could be called a life. And running around the Centre
could hardly be called a life either. Perhaps that’s why I have a problem with
Jarod - he managed to create something that I didn’t have. I’ve always secretly
resented his relationship with Sydney. After all, I might just as well not have
had family. The memories of my mother are nice, but she was a part of my life
during the time when everything seems nice. Have you noticed that about
childhood? It often seems like the nicest time - when there was no concern or
stress. No decisions that had to be made or problems that had to be sorted out.
Always someone there to do it for you. Well, almost always.
After my
mother died, maybe I should have stayed away from the Centre. But the memories,
until I leant to hide them away, always continued to hurt me unless I was
always doing something to keep them away. I would fall asleep, exhausted, at
the end of the day, but then the dreams would come and, more often than not, I
would wake up sweating and clawing at the sheets. But then, before I could
properly remember them, they would be gone, withdrawing to the outer limits of
my subconscious and waiting there until I was vulnerable again.
Jarod has had
nightmares all his life and, when we were little, he would often tell me about them
when I went to visit him. Once, Sydney found us and suggested that he tell me
other, happier stories from his vast imagination. I can still remember the look
on Jarod’s face when he said that he didn’t know any happy stories. If he
hadn’t turned away, Jarod could have seen an almost identical look on Sydney’s.
It was one of the first times that I realized how close the bond between them
was. The greatest tragedy, and one that still gives me no end of frustration,
is the fact that neither of them will really admit it. Of course, Jarod tried.
But Sydney won’t admit to himself how powerful his own feelings are and this
means that Jarod is not willing to open himself up to hurt by allowing his own
emotions to be voiced.
Am I that
different from Jarod? Perhaps not. Except that I have no life and he does. But,
one day, that situation will change and I will have the chance to properly live
again. I remember the few years of freedom. Of course I can see now that they
were never really free, but instead I was always under some sort of
investigation. The Centre will never let a person really go. All I ask is the
chance to have a proper life, and perhaps a family. I wouldn’t have thought
that it was too impossible a request.
I mentioned
vulnerability before, and the fear of letting people know I’m vulnerable is and
always has been the one thing that terrifies me. Let people see inside you and
they tear you to pieces at the first opportunity. I’ve seen it happen. To my
mother and to people like her. Having seen what she went through, I could steel
myself from allowing it to happen to me. And I do. It all comes back to
emotions. Show them to people and that allows people to take advantage of you.
Hide them and they gnaw away at your insides, never letting you escape from
them - or yourself. I remember once talking about dying. Jarod said that taking
your own life was the easy way out, the coward’s way. I said that sometimes it
looked like the only way. He shook his head and showed me that there was always
something, or someone, who would be damaged by a person’s death. No matter what
the person themselves thought. I sometimes wonder what it would do to Jarod
himself. Not if I were to kill myself, but if I were to let the Centre suck me
in and make me disappear, in the way that so many other people have
disappeared. It’s a constant fight to stay away from the turbulence, to stay
safe. I can’t help wondering, sometimes, if that tireless, endless fight is
really worth it. I wouldn’t do it myself. I have too much self-respect to bring
myself that far down. But to let go, to stop fighting the power of the Centre,
it would be tantamount to suicide. It would also be failure. And I won’t
tolerate failure. From myself or anyone else.