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.