I didn't want to come here… Oh
I've already told you that. How much money have I already spent by repeating
myself. That's not much. Yes, I have money. Enough to pay you anyway. I think
you are developing a tick. Or a tack. Your eye is trembling. The right one. No.
Wait. Don't get angry. Not yet. Okay now, okay, I surrender. Let me tell you a
true story.
*
There was once a girl that was
called Helena. Yes, that Helena. Helena was a beautiful girl and had always
been popular with boys. And with girls as well, mind you. Helena was blessed,
or at least so everyone thought, because she had everything a girl would ever
want. The looks, the wits, the wealth. But deep down she was as miserable as
miserable people come. She wanted something else in life. What exactly, she
couldn't tell. So while the lips were smiling, the eyes were sad. And while her
body was blossoming her soul was fading. For hers, you know, was an ancient
soul. She could see things that others could not. She could feel things. Really
feel. When I met her she was at a crossroad in her life I guess. She was
falling apart and trying desperately to find something to hold onto. I was in
the exact opposite state. At a good place. Which thanks to her turned bad. Her
sorrow swallowed me whole, but somehow my presence in her life was enough to
keep her floating over the murky waters of her graceless existence. And here
comes out the poet in me. But I digress. No, I don't. To make a long story
short I fell for her, and, here I am…
*
Do I blame her for my
depression? Did you really have to ask that? Of course I do. Before I met her I
was… I was… Truth is I never was happy. Nor unhappy. But I was content. She
took that away from me. Now I'm mostly unhappy. And I mask my misery behind
wide smiles. I smile the questions away. Not yours obviously, since you don't
ask many. Why don't you? No I am not upset. I'm not. Did you see what I did
there? No? Well, once I've used an apostrophe, just like now, and once I did
not. If my sister is bipolar I guess I am bi-parallel or something. Does that
make any sense?
*
You think perhaps we should
take a break here. You think? You don't know? Are my fifty minutes over
already? Well, time flies by in this office. Sorry, practice. But how can a
space be a practice? I know you didn't say that. I'm just wondering. Couldn't
it simply be a practice space? I mean they are both words. I see a spark in
your eyes. Am I an interesting patient after all? A nut job? I guess I am. I
find me interesting. What? You want to talk about my mother? Are you crazy? I
mean did you know my mother? My mother was… My mother was a figment of my
father's imagination. As I am of hers. We are all fictions. Mostly bad ones.
Oh, you wanted to know how she was as person. Let me see…
To be continued.
The image was taken from here.
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