A Madman’s Diary
I recently picked up a book that I had not read for many years. It is called A Madman’s Diary by Lu Xun. I have a translated copy. It is an interesting book and one which is rather relevant but that is not the purpose of mentioning it. It was, as I was leafing through to find a particular section, the place where a piece of neatly folded paper slipped from the pages of the book and nestled on the floor. Interested by this runaway piece of paper I set the book down and stooped to pick up the piece that lay beneath me. The paper was cream and of a decent weight and I smiled as I recognised where it had come from. It was the only thing that she had in common with my mother but she also knew the value of writing on a quality piece of paper. I unfolded it and there was my confirmation of the author as her neat, copperplate writing spread out before me. She always wrote with a fountain pen, a Mont Blanc and she kept a pot of ink at my house as she preferred to draw the ink from the pot into the pen rather than use the cartridges. I used to enjoy watching her as she carefully applied the nib to the dark liquid and then applied the mechanism to draw it up before cleaning off the oozing nib with a piece of blotting paper which soon became stained in a way not unlike the cover of the book which I had just put to one side. She used to hold up the blotting paper and invite me to comment on what I saw. I played along, since Rorschach was familiar to me. I always invented something spectacular though so she would comment and do so with her eyes with impressed admiration.
“I see a lion eating out a bison from behind,” I would say slowly and she would twist the blotting paper and peer at it to see if she accorded with my view.
“I see a crow stuck in the branches of a tree.”
“I see a dented crown.”
“I see a conflagration about a baby.”
“I see dumb people.”
Each time she filled her elegant writing instrument we would have this little game of me looking at the blotting paper, with its splodges, dots and streaks and without very little hesitation declare some imaginary image which left her both intrigued and confused. It must have been some time since I had last recalled us doing this together as her memory would rarely ever invade my consciousness and it would take something like this to restore that which had once been. I shoved it back into the depths of my memory where it was best kept.
Thus I turned to the letter and read its contents. It was her last letter to me. I think that is why I placed it in this book since I had been reading it at the time and I decided to use her letter as a bookmark rather than place it with all the others that I have received. This is what she wrote:-
“My dearest HG,
This is not some lengthy treatise. We have spoken for as long and as often as we could already and there is no need for repetition. I know I have offended you most gravely and that is something I have never intended nor wished upon your gracious self. You have taught me many things and you set me higher than anyone else and for that you will always have my thanks and eternal gratitude. You truly are a prince amongst men and you always showed the grace of princes whenever you dealt with me. I think, more than anything else that it was your nobility, both in standing and purpose that drew me to you the closest. Even when you became both base and abominable you still exacted that majesty for which I have always loved you and I can only look to my own failings as to why you did as you did. I have issued a thousand sorrows for that which I did not do and that which I did not say. I offered you everything that I had but it was not enough and I remain ashamed of my failure, it is not something I often encounter. I think of you often and that will never change, I am sure of that. I remain willing to help you overcome those obstacles. I still regard them as surmountable and I am saddened that time was against us in terms of addressing them, but I remain hopeful that somehow we shall do so, in whatever form we decide and I will be by your side come what may. I will take this time you have designated as a sabbatical from you and I as one for reflection and improvement, you know how I am. Thank you for once again for our time in the sun, I know you have described it as no more than a howling wilderness and I would be lying if I said that such a description does not upset me. For me, it remains a place of safety and sanctuary and I firmly believe we can achieve it once again, should you decide to give me a further chance. I shall respect your request and not contact you again but I remain always open and amenable to you reaching out to me and indeed I would welcome it. All I ask now is for your forgiveness in the full knowledge that I deserve none.
As I read the letter once again a show reel of images filtered through my mind. Memories re-surfaced some of them not having been resurrected before. I felt those shared memories and those shared occasions stir something once again. In accordance with the recent instruction I have received I allowed this to wash over me, rather than reject it and lock it away again. The sensation flowed over me and it was familiar to me. I recognised all those traits that had caused me to seek her out all that time ago. I recognised the feeling of the fuel that flowed from her. That was what I felt. This piece of correspondence, elegantly written and delicately composed encapsulated the powerful allure that we possess. I need not detail what I put her through once the golden period ended. You have you own experiences of that to draw on which will allow you to comprehend the brutality that such denigration exacted on someone who could write in such terms. Notwithstanding the cruelty and malice, her charity remained undiminished and stood as testament to the very things that I saw when our paths first crossed. This letter indeed reinforced what I knew. I was right. I folded it up and returned it to its rightful and appropriate place in the folds of the book once again, sealing it inside, placing her back in her tomb.
29 thoughts on “A Madman’s Diary”
I am the only one that sees that letter as a vindication of herself and a condemnation of HG? It sounds more like it is discussing a lost battle than a lost love. A mournful epic. She lost the battle, whatever the battle was. Basically the letter is saying, I Can Not Believe I Was Unable To Control And Tame You To My Liking. I really can’t believe I am facing defeat. You are free from me and I do not believe it every day. I am too smart for this to have happened. How could you still be free of me. I too have game, and an understanding of how this life works. I should have been the victor. But, you were and are. HG, this letter has the sound of an adversary that can not believe they actually lost the battle. It is a backhanded salute to the victor. If this is a love letter, like many seem to believe it is, I hope I never receive one.
“You truly are a prince amongst men and you always showed the grace of princes whenever you dealt with me. I think, more than anything else that it was your nobility, both in standing and purpose that drew me to you the closest. Even when you became both base and abominable you still exacted that majesty for which I have always loved you and I can only look to my own failings as to why you did as you did.”
This portraits very well the dynamic between myself and the narc i have been involved for 12 years..
Very sad indeed that i am such a “hopless” hopeful soul even in the mids of hell.
He never passes a chance to lure me and then knife me…that dagger it is jagged with sharps razors blades…. .. of course i provoke the hoovers and the rage… since i do my “escapes” regularly …and then go back for just another dose of massacring treatment….
Ouch poor woman but in a way she has reached forgiveness and acceptance of her fate with HG
To forgive like that is admirable and takes strength but she just reopened her own wounds by sending him the letter
She sounds like a real Lady
I can only imagine her heartbreak when writing this
HG – because she left the door open, have you hoovered her? Would you ever contact her again?
If the Hoover Trigger occurred and the Hoover Execution Criteria were met, of course.
I wonder how far into/beyond the disengagement this letter was composed.
“The ability to forget the past enables people to free themselves gradually from the pain they once suffered; but it also often makes them repeat the mistakes of their predecessors.” Lu Xun
You wrote: “It is an interesting book and one which is rather relevant but that is not the purpose of mentioning it.”
Hmmm…what do you find relevant? I have only wanted to ask this question for so long, but don’t feel like you ever going to disclose.
But I love when I’m wrong 🙂
Whichever empath category this girlfriend was in, is exactly the type of empath I am. Even under brutality, I feel even more of a need to express love and justice-but in a subtle way.
Same anm, sounds similar to a letter a wrote to a narc boss years ago (not as eloquent of course and it was an e-mail) apologizing to him for how he treated me due to my failings. I wish I could find it now and read it through enlightened eyes.
I have a little bit of this in me too. I found myself repeatedly having to express my positive feelings toward him, regardless of how it all ended and his callous withdrawal.
You cannot read Chinese, M. Tudor? It’s perfectly fine! I was only stunned!
Damn she seemed like a good girl hg I’m sure you could give a shit less. She wrote that peice very good very intelligent young lady. I’m sure she is somewhere probably wanting to blow her brains out for she hasn’t figured out what she was ensnared by. Where did you meet her at?…or where did she become entangled with you at perhaps I should say?
You obviously let a good woman go but I believe you know that – you just don’t have what it takes to commit and I truly hate that for you. Did you feel any regret – even after you got your desired fuel? I think so as you put the letter back in the same place – for fuel I know but still I wonder….
I don’t feel regret
If you don’t feel regret, what do you or your kind feel if they have made a huge mistake and lost something be that a huge financial loss or their IPSS for example?
Any regret or just anger at others for what has happened?
No regret. It’s never our fault, it’s your fault or someone else’s fault
Thanks. I accept full responsibility, even if I don’t know what the hell I’ve done haha
Is it my fault that you haven’t published the Boris article yet?
The week isn’t finished yet AS2016. There’s still hope!
I am eager to see the R Kelly analysis.
When you’re conscious of your narcissistic interpretation doesn’t it change your interpretation?
Do you mean me or narcissists generally?
HG! I’m in such a clingy mood to your blog. It’s must be you somehow. It’s just like you are so truthful about the manipulations and how its never your fault but someone else’s fault and all I want to hear is your voice actually say, “Yes, it’s my fault and I know that but won’t ever admit it” and then its like, “Wow. I want to take you out for a drink.” Yep – that’s my plan and seduction. Be a sport 🙂
I mean you HG 🙌 The King.
Since I am the King, my perspective is always the right one.
Hahhaa don’t worry MB.
I don’t watch the news so Boris doesn’t come into my sphere of influence very often so once the week is over I’ll have forgotten all about it!
I know it’s not really my fault! It’s HG’s fault! The truth of the matter is, he hasn’t written it yet because he’s been too busy cutting cookies to save up for his holiday at Butlins!
Hahaha 🙌 You’re not really a King you’re a God