TUE MAR 18

Nat has been following my suggested walking regime and seems the better for it, if only superficially. He firmly believes that the weakest bodies create the sickliest thoughts, therefore if I goad him into physical fitness this may in turn have a placebo effect, as it were, on his depression. Nat was almost overwhelmed with amazement when I pointed out that, if he were to put his mind to it, he could easily be stronger than me. Detecting a hint of malicious glee forming in his normally dull eyes, I let him know that—should he care to try it—he will have a fight on his hands.

WED MAR 19

Today included a tiresome, tedious session with that boy Snoxell and his parents. We went over and over the same old ground, getting nowhere. In desperation I almost mentioned his secret cellar and neurotic attic, but resisted the temptation: such a revelation at this stage could only rupture the gradually improving relations between the parents and their problem child. Nat’s family cannot be expected to understand his situation. Why, they don’t even have an inkling of what he is going through. They weren’t happy with his life before he made clear his suicidal designs, but at least he “kept busy” then. Small wonder they think he is shirking, or perceive his mysterious malady to be merely “madness”.

These group sessions have served their purpose now: even Nat is becoming immune to their embarrassment value. I see no reason why they should continue.

TUE MAR 25

I told Nat of my decision to cease the work with his parents. He was much more relieved than I had anticipated. “You didn’t like it at all, did you, Nat?” He shook his head, quite vigorously by his standards. Perhaps I have been too hasty here; I shall certainly bear in mind the possibility of future impromptu parental assemblies. Nat looked, in general, quite happy, but still talked of dark things.

SUN MAR 30

Another primal therapy session with Nat. This followed the earlier patterns of rapid regressions and sinister screams. His hair is now so long that I kept having to brush it out of his face in order to study his expression. After one particularly searing scream, seemingly made with his whole body, he came to with a shudder.

He spoke fanatically, as only the young can, of the scream’s significance. He had been the creation of the universe; the moment when the human egg is fertilised and begins to spin, whole. Not only did he lay claim to the Alpha, but he also annexed the Omega: he was the cosmic collapse. My disbelief was suspended by his undoubted sincerity. Slightly caught up in his enthusiasm I suggested that he had experienced a brief snatch of Nirvana, which is what one attempts to attain through meditation. On reflection, awesome though Nat’s experience was, it seemed to go straight from birth to death as if the two were directly related, with nothing between the two extremes. “Foetal enlightenment” is well documented in primal therapy literature, but I have found nothing yet that really matches what Nat described.