"So, Mr. Jones". She says, quite dryly." As you can see, you are only chasing delusions, a figment Mr Jones". As she says this, she taps her fingers together, with a look on her face as if she is speaking to a wall." Its all in your head Mr Jones, you made it up".
"Made it all up". I say, rolling my eyes." Don't you sit there an try to tell me, I made it all up". I tell her, mockingly." I know what I saw, you can't fit me into your little textbook descriptions". Silence, now permeates the room, as she sits there watching me with no real expression on her face." So than Mr Jones, tell me.. what is most likely, that you are suffering from some mild delusions, or there is a alternate of yourself running around, doing things that, well.. you only happen to do in your dreams?". I sigh, rub my temple, and look off through the window into the outside world. We are about 20 stories up, so all I can really see is the tops of other buildings that partially block out any semblance of sky." So what are you saying, that I am just out there chasing my tail".
"I don't know Mr Jones, but that is why you are here, is it not?"
"Yeah, of course". I say." But how long exactly am I supposed to sit here?".
"These things take time, an are never cured overnight. You need to have patience Mr Jones, patience". She tends to speak as if she has some weird superiority complex, as if I am an ant looking up on her boot in utter confusion as to what it might be.
She tells me that she has been doing this forever( or at least it feels as such) so she has seen and done it all. All it really is though, is ego coupled with boredom, seeing that she apparently has all the answers, or at least thinks that way anyways. I though, have yet to see it." Yeah well, that is easier said than done. As we sit here". I say." someone is out there, fucking up my life".
"Why". She says." Do you insist on going around in circles Mr Jones. We accomplish nothing with this fact. I am here to help, and I can only do so with your co-operation".
"I am sorry". I tell her in frustration." But I am never going to bend over and believe something I just can't believe to be true, I said it before, but.. I know what I saw, and that was no illusion". The room is quiet, and she sits in front of me perked up upon one of those chairs that go around masquerading as a stool. She is quite pretty though, uncharacteristically so. She seems as if the suit she wears is permanently embedded onto her, I just can't see her wearing anything else. But this is part of my problem, I sit here, with the possibility of a dire situation on my hands, and my mind wanders to such adolescent areas of the brain, that i never truly listen to what people have to say, sure I can hear them and all, but we both know those are two completely different things. Its as if the conscious and unconscious part of my mind is in a epic battle for relevancy. But as I always say, that is a whole other story.
An as moments have past in silence( an quiet contemplation), she starts up once more, and says." So.. Mr Jones, shall we continue?".