Madness or insanity? That is the crazy question. How does one prevent themselves from going mad and how does one retain their sanity? How does one cure themselves from mental illness, and stabilise themselves from falling mentally ill? How does one carry the scars of madness without being permanently scarred with madness?
How does one live on the edge of madness?
Through mad, severe, chronic suppression of the mind and heart.
In other words, to think one thing, and not to think on many things, while not thinking on anything through strict preoccupation.
To be nothing and think nothing. To survive everything and only survive everything.
Nothing else. And when the rebound effect of unintentionally thinking about all the suppressed thoughts strikes with great frequency and intensity, there is only one answer to retain the tiniest sense of self.
Distraction and escapism. To distract the pain, and escape the pain. To fill the hollow sunken area of severe despondency and dejection known as eternal depression with limitless immersion.
All for the sake, of losing time and making time be lost like a misty dream. All for the sake of disconnecting from one self to ensure the connection is never broken in the first place. All for the sake of hanging on by the tiniest and thinnest line of mentality and consciousness.
To live in a fantasy. A fallacy of tragic reality.
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One. Two. In. Out.
Genesia played, as always. He played the game of music where he was undefeated. He placed the game of music where he had no equal. He played the game of music where he was the sovereign king. He played the game of music from the beginning until the end. The end that always started the beginning, and the beginning that always finished the end, to be repeated in a cyclical cycle.
He played the calming song of tranquility with his wooden ocarina that replicated the roaring tides of the ocean. He played the wandering song of those finding their way at sea. He played the right kind of calming music to pass time and right all the wrongs of the world of isolation.
The right kind, for him, and the only piece of his world left, Kakara.
She listened attentively until he ran out of songs to play, having to come up with new ones on the spot. They were situated in a stone forest cave that had drawings of the former indigenous people of Mad Scar.
Some depicted the human population that used to flourish in ancient times before the primal gene. Some accounts depicted the first bits of madness amongst the people when the first primal gene made its way to the Island, mutating the entire population.
That was that. The drawings were very faint and some pieces of dialogue were in an old language Genesia did not understand. Regardless, it was easy to get the gist of the history here along with the indigenous animals.
Kakara was on the left side of the cave, lying down, facing upward, and Genesia was on the right side of the cave, leaning against a rock, trying to figure out what song to play next. She turned to look at him, without expression on her face, her eyes reflected against the current of rushing water that tainted the cave in a cyan hue.
Genesia took notice and silently gazed at her with a dry apologetic smile, not knowing what mood to set next so that they could fall asleep after playing for hours.
Kakara's face didn't change as she made a bathing motion on her left arm with her right hand. She then cupped her hands like they had water to drink, and let that water pour down to where Genesia could almost hear the kind of music she was requesting.
YOU ARE READING
Finding Contentus
FantasyWhat does it mean to Find Content? This is the question that Genesia, for "New Beginnings" and Neosa, for "One Sanctuary", seek to answer. As identical twins, and as survivors of their gifted race of supernatural humans known as Racaans. In one da...
