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07/26/03
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The Last Notebook
By Phenyx
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Dear Sydney,
Where do I start? I could fill all these pages and never say everything that must be said between us.
I hate you, Sydney. I hate what you let them do to me.
I love you, Sydney. Unconditionally.
I met a young man once. He was angry and hurt. He told me that he hated his father. I am sure that part of him did. I know that another part of him loved his father very much. If there had been no love between them, his father's attempt at suicide would not have wounded the boy so much. I understood the inner conflict that young man felt. I understood only too well.
You, Sydney, are my maker, my patron, my teacher and my protector. I would have done anything for you. The physical pain inflicted upon me over the years was meaningless when compared to your displeasure. Hours with Lyle's jumper cables were far easier for me to endure than even one disapproving frown from you.
I tried so hard, worked so diligently for your approval. My reward was a small pat on the shoulder.
"Well done, Jarod." - I lived to hear those words from you. I thrived off them.
When I was a boy, I thought you had all the answers. You were my conscience, my ego and my id. Imagine my shock and confusion when I first realized that you were fallible. Sydney makes mistakes. To err is human. And even you are human, Sydney.
I always trusted you. I always will. Even when you were tying me down to my bed at night, with the leather restraints biting into my flesh, I trusted you. I knew you would never really hurt me. Pain is such a fleeting thing. None of the physical marks you left were permanent.
I was lucky to have you. I know that. You kept the Mr. Parkers and the Mr. Raines of the world as far away from me as you possibly could.
Who would I have become if Raines had been my teacher? If a whim of fate had cast its draw in the other direction, I could have easily spent my life mired in the agony of madness. Lyle's insanity and sociopathic tendencies could have been my own. You kept me from that. The world is a safer place because of it.
You taught me to survive with my sanity intact. Not an easy feat in the midst of the lunatic asylum.
All those years of isolation and I had only you, Sydney. The smallest encouragement from you was a boon to my existence. I knew how important your work was to you. I was honored to be a part of something you held dear. Your research was important work. I was the research. In my young mind that made me important.
It wasn't until I grew older that I began to recognize the similarities between myself and the animals in the labs. I was an experiment. I learned to accept that fact because I was your experiment. And I always believed you to be a great researcher. I still do. Even if your subject matter is highly unethical.
Looking back on it now, I must have realized how dangerous some of the simulations could be. I had to have known how easily my plans could have been altered to do harm. I think perhaps we both knew, but chose instead to fool ourselves into believing otherwise.
It was easier to wear those blinders than to admit to the atrocities we had been committing together.
I wonder how much longer we would have gone on that way. If Damon hadn't so cruelly demonstrated the horrors that surrounded me, would I have allowed myself to be swayed into compliance for a few more months? A few more years?
I can't blame you for what happened to me. You were not the one who stole me from my home. If you had not been there to take care of me, they would have found someone else.
You did the best you could. You did what you had to in order to survive. You did your job well.
Because of you, I have learned the difference between right and wrong, good and evil. I learned to value the lives of others, to help those who cannot help themselves. You taught me to be kind to the less fortunate, to see past surface infirmities. You taught me to move beyond hate.
You taught me so many things, Sydney. And for those things I will always be thankful to you. I am a better man as a result.
I only wish that we could have been friends. How I would have loved to talk to you about so many things! The books I've read and people I've met, the heartaches and the joy I have encountered in these last few years have been astounding. I wish I could have discussed those moments with you.
I wish I could have made you proud of me. I think perhaps you have been in the past, but circumstances prevented you from telling me so. I fervently hope so.
I wish we could have gone fishing.
In closing, Sydney, I want you to have the DSA's. I will leave them in the beach house. I won't hide them from you. After all, they are recordings of your life nearly as much as they are of mine. I hope they will help you with your research.
. Yours always, Jarod
07/26/03
-
The Last Notebook
By Phenyx
-
Dear Sydney,
Where do I start? I could fill all these pages and never say everything that must be said between us.
I hate you, Sydney. I hate what you let them do to me.
I love you, Sydney. Unconditionally.
I met a young man once. He was angry and hurt. He told me that he hated his father. I am sure that part of him did. I know that another part of him loved his father very much. If there had been no love between them, his father's attempt at suicide would not have wounded the boy so much. I understood the inner conflict that young man felt. I understood only too well.
You, Sydney, are my maker, my patron, my teacher and my protector. I would have done anything for you. The physical pain inflicted upon me over the years was meaningless when compared to your displeasure. Hours with Lyle's jumper cables were far easier for me to endure than even one disapproving frown from you.
I tried so hard, worked so diligently for your approval. My reward was a small pat on the shoulder.
"Well done, Jarod." - I lived to hear those words from you. I thrived off them.
When I was a boy, I thought you had all the answers. You were my conscience, my ego and my id. Imagine my shock and confusion when I first realized that you were fallible. Sydney makes mistakes. To err is human. And even you are human, Sydney.
I always trusted you. I always will. Even when you were tying me down to my bed at night, with the leather restraints biting into my flesh, I trusted you. I knew you would never really hurt me. Pain is such a fleeting thing. None of the physical marks you left were permanent.
I was lucky to have you. I know that. You kept the Mr. Parkers and the Mr. Raines of the world as far away from me as you possibly could.
Who would I have become if Raines had been my teacher? If a whim of fate had cast its draw in the other direction, I could have easily spent my life mired in the agony of madness. Lyle's insanity and sociopathic tendencies could have been my own. You kept me from that. The world is a safer place because of it.
You taught me to survive with my sanity intact. Not an easy feat in the midst of the lunatic asylum.
All those years of isolation and I had only you, Sydney. The smallest encouragement from you was a boon to my existence. I knew how important your work was to you. I was honored to be a part of something you held dear. Your research was important work. I was the research. In my young mind that made me important.
It wasn't until I grew older that I began to recognize the similarities between myself and the animals in the labs. I was an experiment. I learned to accept that fact because I was your experiment. And I always believed you to be a great researcher. I still do. Even if your subject matter is highly unethical.
Looking back on it now, I must have realized how dangerous some of the simulations could be. I had to have known how easily my plans could have been altered to do harm. I think perhaps we both knew, but chose instead to fool ourselves into believing otherwise.
It was easier to wear those blinders than to admit to the atrocities we had been committing together.
I wonder how much longer we would have gone on that way. If Damon hadn't so cruelly demonstrated the horrors that surrounded me, would I have allowed myself to be swayed into compliance for a few more months? A few more years?
I can't blame you for what happened to me. You were not the one who stole me from my home. If you had not been there to take care of me, they would have found someone else.
You did the best you could. You did what you had to in order to survive. You did your job well.
Because of you, I have learned the difference between right and wrong, good and evil. I learned to value the lives of others, to help those who cannot help themselves. You taught me to be kind to the less fortunate, to see past surface infirmities. You taught me to move beyond hate.
You taught me so many things, Sydney. And for those things I will always be thankful to you. I am a better man as a result.
I only wish that we could have been friends. How I would have loved to talk to you about so many things! The books I've read and people I've met, the heartaches and the joy I have encountered in these last few years have been astounding. I wish I could have discussed those moments with you.
I wish I could have made you proud of me. I think perhaps you have been in the past, but circumstances prevented you from telling me so. I fervently hope so.
I wish we could have gone fishing.
In closing, Sydney, I want you to have the DSA's. I will leave them in the beach house. I won't hide them from you. After all, they are recordings of your life nearly as much as they are of mine. I hope they will help you with your research.
. Yours always, Jarod
