jynxed's Diaryland Diary




At some point this afternoon, I saw a kid in a goofy little helicopter beanie running around playing some game only he could possibly understand.

Tonight, while laying in bed, reading more of The Lord of the Rings, I stumbled across a little reference to the old nursery rhyme "Hey Diddle Diddle The Cat and the Fiddle."

And now I'm standing on a cliff at the edge of my world. I'm dressed, as usual, in a t-shirt, black tonight, and a pair of shorts. My feet are bare.

The sky over my head is a dark pudding of clouds, churning and tumbling in the sky above.

My heels rest in neatly trimmed grass that tickles the bottom of my feet in a marvelous way that only grass can. My toes hang over the precipice before me, my soles can feel the grassy ground slowly crumbling away beneath my feet.

Below me is darkness. Tiny bits of gravel and dirt tumble away and fall into the black nothingness. And that, in fact, is what it is. There is no ground below, no rocky cliffs of despair or anything of the sort. There's just black nothingness. Black.

The nothingness swallows the crumbling ground beneath my feet like a hungry ethereal being. A parched god of darkness thirsting for the life that is mine.

A cold wind wraps it's fingers around my body, a chilly eddy of air pinning my arms to my sides.

Soft, gentle xylophone-like tinkerbells play the children's song.

"hey diddle diddle the cat and the fiddle the cow jumped over the moon..."

The quiet tones bring tears to my eyes, and I can't explain it. Several weeks ago, I watched my niece play with one of her toys. She pushed a little colored light and the song began...

"hey diddle diddle the cat and the fiddle the cow jumped over the moon..."

I felt something then. A wave of sorrow white-washing through me, painting out the colors of my world. Bright pastels faded into shades of gray. Lifeless shades of gray.

I remember tears welling up in my eyes and still not being able to explain why.


Why would such a harmless little child's song instill that kind of emotion in me? The music infused itself into my veins like a depression drug. I could feel it spreading throughout my body like a shadow falling over the light of my being.

"hey diddle diddle the cat and the fiddle the cow jumped over the moon..."

It makes no sense. If I was abused as a child or something then I could see how a child's song could warp my emotions and cause such a drastic moodshift, but my childhood was filled with the love and happiness a parent can only dream of.

I feel the ground beneath my feet tumble away and I stumble back a step.

The grass is cool.

Amanda and I sat on a grassy knoll this evening and listened to cool jazz from the San Diego Summer Pops. It's been a long time since I sat on the grass. I took my sandals off and let the soft blades kiss my feet.

The boy in the helicopter beanie ran by. He had a funny little waddle of a run. So cute.

Larger pieces of the cliff tumble away before my eyes. The clouds rumble overhead, gray machinery churning and burning the sky. The icy wind squeezes the breath from my body.

"hey diddle diddle the cat and the fiddle the cow jumped over the moon..."

It's late. I should be in bed. I was in bed. I was reading. The Fellowship of the Ring. Frodo sings a goofy little song referencing the nursery rhyme. The photo album of my memory digs through the cataloged images in my mind and pulls out an old Polaroid of my niece playing with her toy.

A harmless vision.

Beyond the framed boundary of the photo sits my lifeless shell, a vision of me that never existed. It sits there watching the toddler. It sits there staring sadly at her. It sits there, crying. Inwardly. Silently. Secretly. It sits there and wonders why such a thing could be so sad.

"hey diddle diddle the cat and the fiddle the cow jumped over the moon..."

The crumbling cliff is closer and I stumble backwards again, refusing to sacrifice myself to the darkness below. The blades of grass beneath my feet stiffen, harden, sharpen.

The clouds above me part in angelic cliche'ity. Only instead of a bright sunbeam spilling down upon me, a dark shadow pierces through and covers me in a tarlike epiphany.


The word is whispered in my ear by a thousand phantom whispers. Understanding dawns upon me in the darkness.

The blades of grass stab my feet, puncturing the soft flesh, holding me fast.

The soft tones (hey diddle diddle) carried through the darkness (the cat and the fiddle) represent a life I'll never know again (the cow jumped over the moon). They represent childhood, a time of peace, of innocence, of calm. Of hope.

Seeing my niece--Morgan, a name, fittingly enough meaning "dawn"--in her state of childness, fills my heart with the soulwrenching juxtaposition of wondrous hope and agonizing sorrow. The boy with the beanie...free.

Hopelessness, as the crumbling cliff wall approaches.

Helplessness, as the blades of grass clutch my feet.


The overwhelming understanding that my existence, my life, everything I know, you, everything that ever was or ever shall be...will one day be no more.

The realization that this existence is only temporary.

That life moves on, and my being must one day find another life.

Only it doesn't exist.

There's a cliff...and beneath it lies only darkness.


Ever passing.

11:50 p.m. - August 19, 2001


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