Meeting Cat Madigan

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Okay, time to get creative!

Speaking of which, there’s a new Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared video out. I thought they said they’d never be creative again, though to be fair, the notepad said that, not the clock.

Anyway, it’s another DP Challenge! Yayyyyyyyy.

This week, I’m writing from the perspective of someone very close to me, and someone I care very much about.

…or I could just get Daniel to write this.

Yeah! Let’s talk to Daniel. Come on out Daniel.

“No.”

“How much do you want?”

“Two embarrassing selfies and a chocolate bar.”

“Fine…”

It was a mess. Black blood on the floor, and she was huddled up in a ball. There were marks on her neck where the thing’s hands were.
“Hey!” I shook her. “Wake up!”
She didn’t respond, but she felt like she was on fire. I splashed some water along her hairline and waited. This shouldn’t take too long.
Finally, she woke up. “It’s cold,” she whispered.
“Wait till your temperature has gone down a slight,” I told her.
She tried to stand, but she fell down quickly. “Don’t try to walk yet,” I told her. “Readjust first.”
Obediently, she didn’t make another attempt. She sat up, resting against her door. She stared blankly in front of her, no life in her pale face. What had those things done?
Then she looked at me, eyes wide and uncertain. “Who are you?” she asked.
I took off my hat. “I’m Daniel. At your service.”
“What? Ugh…” She closed her eyes, and reopened them. “What are you doing here?”
I smile. “Well, I saved your life, for one.”
“You did?” She frowned. “Will they be back?”
My smile quickly fades. “Not tonight,” I say slowly.
“But later?”
“Yeah,” I admit.
She just shrugs. Then she looks up again. “Are you real?”
“What do you mean?”
She grimaces. “Are you from the same place they are?”
“…yeah.” I remembered why I came. “What’s your name?”
“My- I’m Cat. Cat Madigan.”
“So I had found the right one.”
“The right one?”
I sit down beside her. “Have you seen a girl with blue hair around?”
She nods once. “She mentioned you,” I informed her. “You were the only one noticing her.”
Cat frowned. Then she sprang up. “My friend,” she said. “I was talking-”
“It’s fine, go ahead.”
The rest of the night was a blur. She talked to her friend, and I dissolved into background for the rest of the night.
When she was done though, she looked around for me. “Daniel?”
Stay silent, I told myself. I had done my work. It was harder when she started crying, but she fell asleep quickly, and I left.

“Hello,” I said the next day.
Looking back now, I understand why she crashed into her cupboard, but at the time, I ended up scaring her even more.
Twenty minutes later, she had calmed down enough. “Why are you here now?”
“Checking on you.”
“Why?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t you remember yesterday?”
“What about it? Nothing happened, really.”
“What d’you mean?”
“It wasn’t real,” she said. She would repeat that a lot after every incident, I noticed.
I just sighed. “Can you tell me about you?”
I frowned. “Why?”
Don’t give anything away, the voice in my head screamed. “Look. You seem like a nice girl, and I can’t imagine how you got caught up in this,” I quoted from the speech I had rehearsed before. “I might be able to stop the monsters. But only if you tell me everything.”
Cat thought for a moment. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Not really.”
“Okay then.”
“How old are you?”
“Fifteen,” she said.
I was surprised at that. She seemed younger. “You go to school?”
“Yeah, I’m in year ten now.”
“Right.” I breathe out. “Got any friends?”
“Melody, Izzy, Evil One, Snugglepot, Bad Dog, Batman, Papa Willis-” she recited.
“Question answered,” I broke her off. She stuck her tongue out at me. I frowned. “What was that for?”
Cat shook her head. “Sorry.”
I sighed. “You got a boyfriend?”
Cat’s face lit up. “Yeah, Potch,” she told me.
“Do you do drugs?”
“No.” She made a face.
“Do you sniff paint?”
“No.” She rolled her eyes. “And I don’t dabble in black magic either.”
“I didn’t mention black magic.”
“It was going to come up.”
“Yeah, it was,” I admitted. “Are you mentally ill?”
“Probably. Monsters that no one else can see are trying to kill me at night.”
I roll my eyes. “Nothing you know for certain?”
“No. How much more is there?”
“That’s almost it,” I told her.

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Entering VOTY 2014!

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“Cat Madigan, what have you done?”

“Nothing.”

“…then why are you repeating the word stupid over and over?”

“Because I am stupid. That doesn’t mean anything’s wrong, it’s an observation anyone can make.”

“Well why are you realising it just now then?”

“Because, Daniel, I’ve entered a blogpost in a competition!”

“…really?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I understand now.”

“Thank you. May I continue?”

“Of course, right after this message. Ladies, if you’re single and searching, let me-”

WHACK!

“Oooh, the lady is jealous I see.”

“Shut up Daniel.”

So, I entered my post Bandaids in the 2014 Voices of the Year Awards. I have no idea why, I had no idea what I was doing when I entered, and now I’m thinking “Well that was stupid.”

But I may as well make the most of it.

If any of you nonexistent readers are interested in voting for my depression induced rant, you can vote here. I enjoy writing on this blog, even though I don’t always update, and hopefully with school and stuff, I’ll still be able to.

The one thing I’m always worried about is the idea of my parents reading what I’ve written. Honestly, if they read one post on here, they would either lock me in my room or lock me in an asylum. An asylum wouldn’t be too bad. Think about it from an insane person’s point of view. In other words, think of it from a cheerful schizophrenic’s point of view; there would be a room ALL BED.

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And it comes with a comfy looking hug jacket!

Nah, I would hate it, not being able to slap Daniel when I feel like it.

“So glad to be an outlet for your violent outbursts, mistress.”

“Thankyou Daniel.”

If you’ve made an entry in the competition yourself, tell me about it, so I know who to vote for. After all, I’m not going to win.

Love Cat Madigan, and Daniel too.

Psycho vs. Socio

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Happy mode, happy mode, happy mode, happy-BZZZZZZZZZZZT!

happymode.exe is not responding at this time, please try again later.

Okay then…let’s do this from scratch.

So yesterday, I was playing Mad Father. It’s about a girl whose father is a psychopathic scientist who kills people and makes them into dolls. You know, my sort of story. Long story short, a curse on their house makes the subjects come back to life, and they go after the father, and the daughter, Aya, goes to safe him.

Spoilers, by the way.

The game has three endings, but the true ending shows Aya surviving and turning into a sociopathic murderer. It runs in the family, you know.

So what I had noticed was that Aya and her father both behaved in completely different ways, even though they both turned into killers. Her father, who I found out was called Alfred, would brutally murder subjects with a chainsaw, and would’ve murdered his own daughter the same way. Aya, on the other hand, appears sweet and cheerful, and she appears to be a kind doctor who helps poor patients…by sedating them before killing them.

It was Mad Father, and somewhat Sherlock, that got me curious about what the difference was between psychopaths and sociopaths.

So I researched.

If only I was this good with schoolwork.

Oh well.

Psychopaths are those who go beyond what is considered normal moral behaviour. Think of kids who torture animals, just to see what happens. Psychopathic tendencies are passed on through genetics, and are there from a young age.

Sociopaths, on the other hand, are simply those who lack social and emotional skills, and are unable to relate to others. But sociopaths aren’t as destructive as psychopaths; their tendencies are usually taken out on those in their personal lives. But sociopaths are usually made; if a child is raised in a cold, emotionless environment, they’re likely to shut down socially and emotionally.

Both these people lack the ethics which is normal to society, and can’t always sympathise with others. They’re also able to look at gory things without flinching, things that would make others look away.

But the major difference is that psychopaths have a charming exterior, no matter how twisted they are underneath. They are able to interact with people with ease. Sociopaths, on the other hand, don’t care about what anyone else thinks; they act exactly how they like, do exactly what they want. That’s what makes psychopaths more dangerous; you’re more likely to dislike a sociopath than a psychopath.

I wonder what I am exactly. I feel like I have to be one of these; with everything that’s going on in my head, I think there has to be something there which is the origin for it all.

I’d have to say that I think myself more sociopathic than psychopathic, but not by much. Then again, a psychiatrist might know more about me than I would. I’ve got no clue who I am anymore. Kaya or Cat. Human or…something weird.

I’m probably just plain old insane.

And for now, that’s okay.

Time to chill out now. I should take a break from scary stuff.

Mad Cat.

Five Letters Following

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F R E A K

Everywhere I go, they’re there. But why?

I get called a lot of things, but in Delirium, I am called just one; Freak. And now that they’ve carved it in my hand, I won’t ever forget it.

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Daniel knows something I don’t. That’s nothing new, but I don’t like it. Only one thing’s certain; I have far too many scars for my own good, and this won’t be my last token from Delirium.

Justin Bieber, Tamagotchi

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If you have no life and you’re constantly on the Internet, then like me, you probably know that one of the great role models for gullible teenage girls has been arrested.

We all knew this would be coming someday. The guy pees in restroom mop buckets, and spits at his fans, it was only a matter of time before his ego spread beyond the law.

So Justine was taken in for driving under the influence with an expired license, and resisting arrest. People are speculating whether or not he’s actually going to learn from this experience and be a good boy from now on. One thing’s for sure; numerous fan girls are going to swoon over his mugshot, which is possibly the most charismatic mugshot in history.

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(Will he keep looking like that after he drops the soap?)

In my own special, messed up way, I’m going to feel sorry for Bieber. First off, he looks too much like a girl, he’s not going to be safe in prison. And his celebrity status isn’t going to help things. But another way of looking at this is that he is a young man who is given everything he wants by the people around him. A lot of people who hate him think “Oh my god, he’s turning into an asshole, why don’t they stop him?!” Which is a pity, because in an ideal society, they would reprimand him.

But we live in this society. And this society is completely money oriented.

Think of it this way.

1- Money is earned through prepubescent YouTube sensation.

2- Prepubescent YouTuber’s performance is affected by their health and their mood. I call this the Tamagotchi factor; if your prepubescent YouTube sensation is hungry or in a foul mood, he’ll die. Well, he won’t go to that extreme, but his performance will show if he’s not a happy camper, which will cause everyone to lose money.

That’s right everyone. Justin Bieber is a Tamagotchi. And most of his fans will be too young to know what that is.

3- Things affecting prepubescent YouTube sensation’s mood are infinite, depending on his ego. He may be fine if someone gives him hate mail, or he may go full on psycho and go to their house and kill their puppy. His ego will decide what he deserves, not anyone around him.

4- People surrounding prepubescent YouTube sensation have no choice but to keep his mood the same, which means giving him what his ego decides he deserves. The only other option is to lose money.

So, it’s sort of sad how an impressionable teenager has been lead astray by fame for the sake of money. Almost as sad as millions of impressionable teenagers sobbing their eyes out and threatening to kill themselves because this Tamagotchi has been arrested. Hopefully he learns from this though, or if not him, then at least his army of fan girls.

I’m surprised that none of his fans have tried to break him out of prison yet to be honest. Think about it. Sixty million teenage girls verses about…I dunno. One hundred cops?

I’m going to end this on a serious note. Because when he was caught smoking pot, Cut for Bieber happened. And no one wants that. If you consider yourself Justin Bieber’s number one fan, please do not try to break him out of prison, please do not do anything to hurt yourself, just for the sake of this one pop star, because he’s not worth it. He didn’t care for millions of girls cutting for him and he won’t know that you’ve hurt yourself because of his mistakes. Don’t base your worth on how much you love him.

After that rant, I need breakfast. Btw, diet is not going well. I want pasta…

Love Cat Madigan.

Don’t Feed The Cat Madigan.

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I think I mentioned once that I received my anxiety from my father and my depression from my mother. No clue where the hallucinations came from though. But that’s not what I’m talking about.

So my father’s anxiety has started acting up again, and according to my mother, he’s been having panic attacks. He went to the doctor, who told him something about anxiety. This may or may not turn out to be total crap, but who knows?

Anyway, Doctor Jeff told Dad that there is increasing evidence that gluten is linked to mental disorders such as anxiety, depression and schizophrenia, and that perhaps going glucose free would be better for him.

Upon being told this by my father, my mother decided that the whole family needed to go on the diet, to support my father. It’s easy to understand what that means. Would you like a translation, nonexistent reader?

I think that if Cat Madigan goes on this diet, her problems will be magically solved, and we can go back to the world of children’s stories.

I’m interested in finding out how she plans to enforce this on my alleged brother, arguably the most deceitful person on Planet Earth. Chances are, Tig will resort to stealing from Mum in order to buy pizza, and other foods with wheat, instead of iTunes cards. And I wonder if Dad is actually going to stick to it too. It can go either two ways; he stays on the diet, or he ends up stashing pasta in his desk, along with chocolate bars and porn.

Hey! Don’t look at me that way! I was looking for chocolate, I had no idea about the porn, and I really wish that I was still oblivious to it.

No wonder I’m fucked up.

Personally, I think this is going to go the same way as the sugar free diet went. About two years ago, when my blackouts were simply blackouts, Mum attempted to make me go on the same diet she had been on for about fifteen years before we were born, in order to control my blood sugar. It’s got to do with highs and lows; sugar gives you a huge high before plummeting, which can cause faints. Now, of course, I’m aware that my blackouts are most likely brought on by my hallucinations. And what causes my hallucinations is probably not my mild chocolate addiction.

Here’s what I think will happen, step by step.

1- Mum will remove every trace of everything that has wheat in it.

2- Mum will replace everything with gluten free counterparts. Does it matter if it’s appetising? Nope. Will she expect us to eat it? Yup.

3- I will most likely refuse to eat said gluten free foods, partially because they’ll be disgusting, but mainly because my stomach is the size of an apricot and I’ll be full after a yogurt with psyllium. Which doesn’t contain gluten, thank Christ.

4- Mum shall try to guilt trip me into eating disgusting gluten free counterparts, saying “We’re all doing this for you!” even though deep down, we all know it’s not going to work.

5- I’ll probably learn to cook rice dishes. Which is awesome, I love Asian food.

6- Less awesome; Mum will be angry that I am showing some independence, and will probably yell at me for some reason she’ll make up in her head.

7- No junk food. I know that gluten isn’t in all junk food items, but knowing my mother, this diet is one step from gluten free to everything-considered-appetising-and-fattening free. This, will lead to disobedience on Tigger’s part, and, depending if the diet works for me or not, mine too.

8- Tigger will start stealing money for pizza.

9- Father will hide items full of gluten with his porn.

10- I will end up starving and run away to the streets, where there is at least food.

11- Mum will go on a murderous rampage after this culmination of events.

THE END.

On that note, I implore you all, if you are/know a doctor, dietician, nutritionist, psychologist, paediatrician, or essentially anyone who knows about gluten free diets or how gluten affects mental disorders like the ones I mentioned above, please let me know if the diet does in fact work. I’ll try it if it helps my problems, but if it’s trash, then let me know by commenting on this post. Preferably before my mother goes around killing people.

Mum is trying to pressure me into eating disgusting bread now. It begins…

Cat Madigan.

Tears and Why I Shed Them

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“Please tell me you know why you’re crying,” Daniel says to me.

“….”

“Okay then…what did one of your friends say now?”

I just sigh and show him. “Right.” Daniel cracks his knuckles and flexes his hands. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Don’t.”

“Why? I think Flash should apologise.”

“It’s my own fault Daniel, it’s fine.”

“NO IT IS NOT!” he yells suddenly. “It is not okay!”

“Calm down,” I plead.

“No, I will not. You know why?” He refuses to wait for an answer. “Tell me, when was the last time you spoke back to someone?”

“…”

“Precisely Cat Madigan. So…we should do something about it.”

I already feel a pit of dread growing in my stomach. “No…”

“Stop being a chicken.”

“I’m not a chicken! I just don’t want to lose a good friend.”

“You can do without him, you silly girl.”

“He’s my friend!”

“Cat, what is that falling down your face?”

“Evidence of severe emotional instability.”

“That reminds me….” With that, Daniel disappears.

“Daniel?” I look around my bedroom. “Daniel where are-”

And that’s when everything changed.

My arms hurt, but I couldn’t move them. They were held behind my head by chains attached to the ceiling. I hate them… Struggling hurts more. “LET ME OUT!” I scream. “LET. ME. OUT!”

I could feel him behind me. It wasn’t Daniel, Daniel was warm, you could feel the heat radiating from his body from a couple of steps away; this stranger was cold. Daniel smelt of rain and smoke. The stranger smelt of death.

And I knew him.

“It’s not her,” I tell him. “It’s Cat, my name is Cat, not Kaya, do you understand? Please.” I know what happens next, I’ve seen it happen, I’ve seen it happen to her. Then I realise. “It doesn’t make a difference does it? You would’ve known it wasn’t me, just like I immediately knew you weren’t Daniel…”

I hear him walking, and I finally see him out the corner of my eye. He’s only two steps away from me, but even then I can’t make him out clearly. I just see dark mangy hair.

Then he speaks. “Freak,” he growls.

My head is on fire, and my body slumps. I hang by my arms, only wanting it to stop. “Freakish girl, girl with two faces,” he hisses at me.

“I know what I am,” I croak out, and a wave of pain surges through. Don’t you scream, Cat.

Do you really?” he muses. There’s silence, and I don’t know what he’s thinking, but the pain stops.

And the light vanishes.

Oh no… Focusing, I manage to keep my breathing steady, he will not see me afraid. Kaya might be proud, I think.

All that changes when his nails are digging into my stomach, his mouth snarling down my ear, his icy skin absorbing any heat from my body. I can’t help it, I scream. And his hands, with impossible fingernails as long as knives, dig deeper.

I see blood again. Red, not black, I note. How?

Just before he rips out my organs, I wake up, and I’m coughing and spluttering. More than that, I’m sobbing. I now know why I’m crying, I think, my internal words twisted and bitter. Happy now Daniel?

I can move my hands, and they touch where the monster’s claws were. It hurts when I touch it, but the skin is unbroken.

“Stay with me,” I whisper out loud, to no one.

I go to bed alone, and I pretend to be asleep when I hear him. He curses himself and he eventually climbs in after about ten minutes of panicking. “Forgive…” His voice pleads.

Mercy…the one act separating humanity from becoming monsters. I roll over and look at Daniel; for once, he needs comfort instead of me. “Shhhh,” I tell him, like he often tells me. “Shhhh.”