Nobody ever listens... · 7:56pm Jul 9th, 2015
“So you have been experiencing… problems in life recently, have you not, Chris?”
The man shifted on the sofa he was lying on. “Well, yeah. I guess you could say that.”
“And would you mind sharing with me what these problems of yours are, Chris?”
“No, not at all. I mean, you’re paid to listen to my problems, right? O’ course I’m gonna vent a little bit.”
Chris moved to a sitting position, taking his feet off of the arm of the couch and placing them on the floor to look intently at the psychologist, whose legs were crossed with a notepad resting upon them and a pen in hand. He looked up from the paper to Chris, motioning him to begin.
“Whenever you are ready, Chris.”
Chris scratched at the stubble lining his chin, wondering where to begin as he thought back to anything and everything that he could speak to his doctor about before he gave up when he couldn’t think of a single noteworthy thing.
“Dammit!” the psychologist raised an eyebrow at the outburst. “I- I mean ‘dangit’.” Chris locked his hands together, looking this way and that as he rested his chin upon his intertwined fingers. “You know what, Doc? You mind if I skip this part so’s we can go straight to that picture test… thingamajig you psychologists do?”
The psychologist smiled for the first time since their meeting. “Oh, you mean the Rorschach Test? Well, that’s a bit unorthodox, but if you insist, I see no reason to object.” He stood up, adjusting his tie as he placed the pen and notepad on a small round table that sat next to his chair. “Give me a moment to go and grab the proper materials and I will be right back with you.”
The psychologist gave Chris a small nod as he turned to walk out of the room, opening the door before shutting it behind him.
Now properly alone, Chris allowed his mind to wander for a bit. He thought of his aspirations, of the long life that lay ahead of him, of his faults. Then, his introspection was annihilated by the shutting of a door. Chris snapped back into reality, looking back at the cause of the noise, letting out a sigh of both relief and anxiety upon seeing it was the psychologist.
“Jeez, Doc. You scared the hell outta me,” said Chris, taking deep breaths through his nose as he unentangled his hands in an attempt to calm his racing heart.
“My apologies, Chris,” responded the psychologist, as he adjusted the thin, black rimmed glasses perched atop his nose. He walked over to his seat, taking his place in them as he lifted the pen off of the table, allowing it to hover over the notepad as he kept the cards in his lap face-down.
“Are you ready to begin?” he asked, his hand resting on the cards.
“I’m ready whenever, Doc,” permitted Chris.
With that said, the psychologist brushed off his stainless black slacks before once again crossing his legs, flipping the first card over. “What do you see in this picture, Chris?”
Chris stared keenly at the picture, thinking on what he was seeing for a few minutes before talking. “I see… I see a sad tiger devouring a butterfly. There are wings on either side of its head that look broken, and I think that symbolizes the tiger’s despair and the butterfly’s wasted beauty.”
The scratching of pen on paper met Chris’ ears as he looked down to arrange his jumbled thoughts. “Interesting,” mused the psychologist as he continued writing.
When he was finished taking his notes, the psychologist turned back to Chris, Chris giving him a curt nod as he drummed his knuckles on his legs.
“Alright, now what do you see in this picture?” questioned the psychologist as he flipped over yet another card.
Chris gazed at the picture for a brief moment before looking away, attempting to put together the right words from the thoughts that formed in his mind upon the sight of the image. “I see a… spearhead being driven through a dark beast. It’s almost like the spearhead represents purity and the darkness represents… well, darkness.”
The psychologist continued writing as Chris spoke. “Or maybe the spearhead is a perversion of purity, using violence and brutality to remove what it sees to be less great than itself although the dark beast seems to be defenseless and isn’t fighting back. It’s almost as though the spearhead took it by surprise, while its back was turned. So that makes me wonder just who’s quote on quote ‘pure’ and who’s the victim of bias without understanding.”
More scratches were heard before the psychologist placed down his pen on the paper. “Would you like to see another?”
“No,” said Chris, before he caught himself and clarified. “I- I mean, no thanks. I think I’m done with those cards for the day.”
Nodding, the psychologist placed the cards on the table, picking up the notepad and his pen as he wiggled in his seat in an attempt to find a more comfortable spot.
“I am going to need to replace this old thing,” muttered the psychologist before looking back to Chris, who was looking around the room in order to not make things too awkward. Oddly enough, he had a difficult time making out any specifics about the room, his mind seeming to haze if he looked too intently at something. “Chris, what did you think of the Rorschach test? Any opinions?”
Chris looked back at the psychologist, scratching at his neck before he spoke. “Well, it’s all about opinion, ain’t it? That’s why those pictures is so ambiguous, right?” The psychologist did not respond. “Yeah, o’ course. If you ask me, those are just white sheets of paper with ink thrown on them; instead of throwing them away, though, they’s used to determine the mental state of others. People try to attach meaning to those things because they feel like they’s expected to, not because they actually see anything in them.”
“And why would anyone feel like it’s expected of them to ‘attach’ meaning to things that are void of it, as you say?”
“Well, I don’t know. I don’t think of this type o’ crap because I usually keep myself busy. My thoughts are a scary place to get stuck in because I can’t tell what’s a lie and what’s truth in them. Every time I think of something or see something, there’s always that small detail lost or added to it that makes it indistinguishable from either.”
“Hm.” hummed the psychologist, motioning Chris to continue.
“But if I were to get on topic, I guess… I guess that I mean people always are looking for approval from others, no matter the circumstance. I mean, the only reason I’m speaking right now is because it would be rude and awkward to sit and stare at you for an hour as you jot down notes on my behavior. I’m answering the questions for your benefit as well as mine, I guess.”
The psychologist tapped the end of the pen against his cheek, lightly biting his lip as he glanced to the side for a brief second. “Let us talk about your life, Chris,” he said as he looked back to Chris.
“What about my life?”
“I remember you mentioning something about not feeling ‘fulfilled’ with your existence, or something along those lines?”
Chris sighed, running a hand over his head as he looked at the ground. “Man, don’t you think it’s funny how a guy can complain about how his life isn’t going the way he wants it to, but when he’s asked about it, he always wants to change the subject because not even he knows where he wants to go?” Chris smiled a small, mirthless smile, the psychologist not responding. “Check it, I always am thinking about what I want to do with the life I’ve been blessed with, but no matter how much consideration I put into it, I feel as though I’m no closer to figuring that out.”
“ Maybe that’s because the only person I really question about that is myself; it’s not like anyone else wants to listen to my problems when they’ve got problems of their own, am I right? Why do you think people are paid to listen to other peoples’ problems? No offense to you, Doc, but I know the only person who loses sleep over my troubles is me.”
“And what are these ‘troubles’ you lose sleep over, Chris?”
“That’s the thing; not even I know, and I’m the one who’s bothered by them. It’s so frustrating at times.” A look of anger flashed over Chris’ face for a split second before cautious neutrality once again worked its way onto his features.
“I can imagine. Now, would you mind talking for a bit? Just to clear your mind and gather your thoughts?”
“You mean vent? Yeah, sure, I can do that for a bit.” Chris focused on his disorganized thoughts for a moment before sighing and speaking about whatever came to mind. “Doc, I just feel so empty sometimes. I mean, my mind is always filled to the brim with random thoughts and then when I try to center on any of them it’s like they actively avoid my attention. I feel like I have no control over them whatsoever, like I’m just unstable and have no legs to stand on. It’s like drifting through a sea of… of both everything and nothing.”
Chris rubbed a finger at the corner of an eye, growing more upset as he spoke. “And every time I try to organize my thoughts, they just get more and more disorderly. So when I can’t think, I try to speak. But I ain’t that good at articulating myself, so people who do offer an ear always focus more on the way that I say things than what it is I’m saying, and you got no idea how much that alone pisses me off. Nobody ever listens! They offer sentiments and sympathy, but deep down they don’t truly care. And when they do listen, it’s for the wrong things. That ain’t listening, that’s just hearing, plain and simple!”
Taking a moment to collect himself, Chris finally managed to meet the psychologist’s eyes as he spoke. “So I took to writing my feelings and thoughts instead of trying to speak about them. I just write how I feel about something at the end of the day if it’s particularly stressful. I’ve written about my ambitions, my dreams, my thoughts, feelings, experiences, everything. You could’ve pieced together my entire life story if you found the hundreds, maybe even thousands, of papers I wrote about myself.”
“And what do you do with these papers after you’re done writing them, Chris?” asked the psychologist, looking more interested than before.
“I burn them,” responded Chris. “I don’t want any sensitive information about myself getting into the hands of strangers, friends, or even family, so I just turn my thoughts into ash.”
A surprised look made its way onto the psychologist’s face. “You do realize that you’ve just contradicted your entire argument about wanting to organize your thoughts and possibly even tell others about how you feel, correct?”
“But like I said before any of that, I don’t know what I want. I just know that I don’t want others reading what I write without my permission. That’s intrusive if you ask me. Not only would I feel violated by such a thing, but I’d be horrified by the fact that someone else could very well understand my thought process better than I do.”
The psychologist hummed, leaning back into his chair. “Fair enough, I suppose. You may continue if you wish.”
Chris tapped a finger on his temple, trying to jog his memory so he could say something. “Naw, Doc. I think that’s it for me today. I do have a question for you, though.”
“Oh? Well, as long as it is appropriate to the conversation, I suppose I can answer your question.” The psychologist smiled encouragingly at Chris.
“You’ve been awfully silent this entire time. I mean, yeah, you’ve asked me questions and all that jazz, but you barely responded to mine. Why is that?”
The smile left the psychologist’s face at that question. He sighed as he looked at the clock, removing his glasses to clean them off on a sleeve; placing them back on his nose, the psychologist looked sadly into Chris’ eyes. “I do not have the answer to such a question, Chris, nor do I have the answer to any other questions you may have about yourself. Those questions are for you to answer, not me. But I will be here, waiting for you, if you do need someone to speak to.”
That response confused Chris and for some reason filled him with an unignorable sense of dread. “Doc. Why are you so intent on avoiding my questions?”
The sad look never left the psychologist’s eyes as he spoke. “As I have stated, I do not have the answers to your questions, Chris. I am but a figment of your imagination, after all.”
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LOL
3223399 Hue.
Fuck all that psychological Schizophrenic shit! I told myself if I was to much of a pussy to throw myself off a bridge, might as well wade through the bullshit till I can see the sunshine.
3223701 Hue.
Who the hell is Chris?
.....
3224802 Hue.