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Is This Insanity?

Novel By: UN Owen
Other



A man with no direction in life and a secret longing for death, Noel Lynch describes his feelings of utter inadequacy and dissatisfaction with everything as he recounts the most memorable moments of his short and lonely existence. A deconstruction and satire of depression-filled coming-of-age stories, it also acts as a true and honest look into the mind of an anxious, depressed young man who blames others for his own misery View table of contents...


Chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Submitted:Feb 27, 2013    Reads: 3    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


Of course, isolation eventually gets the better of you, and my loneliness soon took a great toll on my sanity. I began to have bizarre, frightening hallucinations that I was being kept as a captive by an alien civilization that had wiped out the entirety of mankind, leaving only myself as the sole survivor. I would imagine that I was locked in a strange, isometric cage where I was fed, bathed and kept drugged. Every once in a while, the beings would escort me out of my prison into their laboratory where my innards would be exposed for them to poke around in. They carved down my mid-section and flung open the severed flaps on either side of my stomach. Their hands would slither through my visible stomach contents and I would watch the whole thing, completely aware of what they were doing to me. I tried to scream, but no noise escaped my mouth, for I had forgotten how to use my voice once again. However, these alien encounters were nothing more than simple delusions and hallucinations, although they were so vivid that I was almost certain that I was truly a victim of abduction. On other occasions, I would envision that the walls of my bedroom were aligned with the faces of every person I'd met up until this point in my life. Yells and obscenities echoed from their lips, and I heard only their judgmental remarks. During these fits of lunacy, I held my head and pleaded for them to stop, but it was all for naught as each time I pleaded, I found the noises growing even louder.

On the eve of my final Christmas break in high school, I remained stoic and locked away inside of my wonderful bedroom. Devoid of any sentimentality, numb to my surroundings, I thought deeply about the future. What was I to do after school? My grades had been consistent D's for the past semester and I had absolutely no hope of going to college and attaining any sort of meaningful career. Can you believe that I wanted to be a filmmaker? How was I supposed to become a creator of extravagant films if I was incapable of even passing high school? My life meant nothing. My future meant nothing. I decided, then and there, to end it, knowing that it would solve all of my worries and problems. I became angry, thinking of all the things in the world that caused suffering, and realized that there was nothing I could ever do to become happy. It drove me to the edge. I held my head and grabbed my shaggy hair. I pulled and tugged as hard as I could, but the feelings would not cease. I became encroached in a wave of dread, and I began questioning why I felt this way. What is wrong with me? What am I? Am I human? Or am I a monster? Why do I think these thoughts? Why can't I be happy like everyone else? Maybe they aren't happy. They have to be! Why can't I be normal? What am I? Am I a different breed of human? Am I something else entirely? Am I insane? What am I?

It became too much for my mind to take. Out of anger, I had thrust my balled up fist, filled with strands of my ripped out hair, at my window, shattering it and sending broken glass careening through the air. I collapsed to the floor, first in an agonized wail that soon segued into a fit of depraved crying. My eyes fogged up and I could not see through the misty tears that accumulated between my lids. After several minutes of my pathetic, self-hating sobs, I soon broke out into a light chuckle, as if I were being told an amusing joke. The chuckle shortly became a loud giggle, and that giggle became a fit. I fell over onto my side into the pool of broken glass from my window and began flailing around like a child having a temper tantrum. My giggles exploded into a ridiculous display of laughter. This was not the laugh of a teenage boy. This was the laugh of a lunatic. Insane, completely numb and empty, the laugh bounced off the walls in my room and found their way back to me. My voice cracked and the laugh became louder and more deranged. It cracked again before my voice regained itself, only to quickly break once more. Cuts formed up my arm due to my rolling around in broken glass. Blood leaked onto the floor, and I decided that now was as good a time as ever to end it. I had answered my own question. I asked myself, "Am I insane?" My answer was an affirmative "yes." My laughter continued. I grabbed the longest shard of glass off of my floor.

Laughter.

I slowly held it towards my wrist. My hand bled.

More laughter. Tears strolling down.

My hand shook. My face was twisted into a manipulated, tortured grin.

The laughter continues. Tears enter the mouth.

I hesitated, still smiling and laughing, but regained my resolve. I pulled the shard up high and brought it down hard into my arm, making sure to get it in there. I do not recall much of what happened after that, but I do remember falling forwards and slumping onto my floor into the pool of glass and red stuff.Of course, isolation eventually gets the better of you, and my loneliness soon took a great toll on my sanity. I began to have bizarre, frightening hallucinations that I was being kept as a captive by an alien civilization that had wiped out the entirety of mankind, leaving only myself as the sole survivor. I would imagine that I was locked in a strange, isometric cage where I was fed, bathed and kept drugged. Every once in a while, the beings would escort me out of my prison into their laboratory where my innards would be exposed for them to poke around in. They carved down my mid-section and flung open the severed flaps on either side of my stomach. Their hands would slither through my visible stomach contents and I would watch the whole thing, completely aware of what they were doing to me. I tried to scream, but no noise escaped my mouth, for I had forgotten how to use my voice once again. However, these alien encounters were nothing more than simple delusions and hallucinations, although they were so vivid that I was almost certain that I was truly a victim of abduction. On other occasions, I would envision that the walls of my bedroom were aligned with the faces of every person I'd met up until this point in my life. Yells and obscenities echoed from their lips, and I heard only their judgmental remarks. During these fits of lunacy, I held my head and pleaded for them to stop, but it was all for naught as each time I pleaded, I found the noises growing even louder.





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