Sitting on the leather bound couch, sniffing into a tissue, crying my soul out to the world, only to be heard by the man intent on monetary motivation.
And how does that make you feel? He asks bored, she’s just another cash source to him, she’s nothing to him, he doesn’t care.
I tell him my story and receive only blank stares, he’s not looking at me, he’s looking to the billboard behind him, the latest advert for the new range of lingerie released to the public by Victoria’s Secret.
The ring on his finger glinting in the sunlight drawn from the skylight above. He wasn’t even aware what i was saying.
I just can’t stand how people can just sit there and not listen to me, even when they pretend to…
Yes people do that, go on. He says in an automated response, his voice monotone, his scribbling making circular motions clearly outlining what he saw on the billboard behind me.
I brush my hair behind my ears, my eyes noticing the scars that lined the my wrist, they blared at me, glowing white as if a painful reminder of what was to come in my moments of solitude.
He stands up, pacing, his words drowned out by my thoughts of disgust, if he wouldn’t listen, who would.
The scars glowed hot again, my throat aching from the early morning purge. I was no one, no one. My tears running in a constant stream down my face, i couldn’t help it, i had no one, what could i possibly do.
Random sentences emerged through the psychologist’s rant. It will get to you.
… They cannot help it, they cannot help you, but i know something that can.
He got out his prescription pad, scribbling the words of a pharmaceutical drug, the name appearing all over his desk i noted as i stood up to take the prescription, letters of thanks for his avid support for their sales.
I sniffed back the rest of my soul, and heart, what was left of it. And exited alone, without the warmth of love, consideration, nor care that others would share with me.
Why wouldn’t anyone care for me, all i wanted was the love from someone.
This was nothing out of the ordinary. As i exited the lobby i sat down on the side walk without a care for anything, but my wrenched heart despite the large volumes of traffic rushing past me. I brushed my hair back in a weak attempt to calm it against the rush of wind that passed me with every vehicle, the scars there again, in front of me, a harsh reminder of reality.
What would happen if i lent forward just that little bit, tipping me closer to the edge.
Who would care about me.
This is a story dedicated to all of those who go through this, there is help out there, i’m not talking about the professional kind, there is always someone concerned for your well being, even strangers.
If you need to talk, talk, find someone.