Part I: The Room
“Why are you here?” the doctor asked me while I sat quietly in his office; trying to cultivate some sort of answer. Knowing the truth would only be rejected and critiqued leaving me either committed or incarcerated. The reality is I’m not even sure if there is a truth, if what I have done will change anything. I took a deep breath and looked around the room; it was dark and empty; as if the emotion loneliness could manifest itself into a visual existence. No remnants of human connection was present only despair. The only thing I did see was the doctorate degrees hanging on the wall and a beautiful bamboo plant in the corner that I believed to be plastic; there was no windows; such a divine plant could not live without sunshine. I closed my eyes and imagined myself lighting a cigarette; inhaling slowly and exhaling any pain away. I’ve been a smoker all my life; a habit that i picked up at the age of 12 and at this pivotal moment I could not smoke; I was not allowed to. With all the energy I could I procure I mummer the word “spoken”. I said it with no conviction no intensity it was merely a whimper. “What was that?” the doctor asked while staring at me intensely. “Spoken” I replied with my head down but a little louder than last time. I picked my head up and saw the befuddlement on his face; an expression more perplexed that it would make the ‘thinking man’ look perspicuous. I finally started to gain my composure and sat back in my chair, I once again took a deep inhale from my imaginary cigarette and focused. The room started to slowly dissipate into the corners of my peripheral vision; all that remained was the hovering incandescent light above that shined down on us. It was just me and him as if we were the last two people on earth, I felt comfort and safe; I knew I was ready. With more strength in my voice I told him “this is my story”.
Thanks for reading. (Copyright Adan Mendez. All rights reserved.)