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Category: Writing and Poetry

A cheerful person writes gut wrenching things


!TW! Mentions of sh and drugs!

“Everything comes to an end they say. Some sooner then others. What would your last couple sentences be, if you were writing a story about your childhood?” 

“My childhood?” I say face blank, trying hard to think. 

“Yes, your childhood. Your answers will help determine what’s wrong mentally.” The man says obviously trying to not sound as aggravated as he looks. 

I open my mouth about to say something but pausing, scared to speak. 

“Say as you feel.” The lady sitting politely next to him states more comforting than the man.

I finally speak, “I still don’t know if my childhood was good or bad, but I do know that I wasn’t told I was mature for my age for nothing. I may not be a child no longer but I feel robbed of the love and affection I needed as a kid, I’ve become a tall child now only wanting the love and care other kids were given by their parents that I missed out on.” My face giving a soft smile trying to hide the pain I had from the words I spoke.

The man started writing quickly, as the lady stood up excusing herself from the plain white room. After the door closed all you could hear was her quiet weeps and sniffing along side the man’s pen clicking against the paper attached to the clipboard.

She walks back in makeup smudged, eyes puffy, nose red and runny. 

“I’m sorry, I lost control of myself for a minute.” 

He waits for her to sit back down before speaking again. 

“Miss Tani.” He mumbled, his expression softer than before, his eyes drooping and jaw loosened. “How would you feel about signing up for a caretaker, they will be able to to give you the love you need to heal without judgment. You will be able to choose the person you feel the most comfortable with in the program. They will treat you like you are a child and put you in a care free mindset-“

“No.” I say coldly glaring at the only person seated next to him who just looks at me with pity, my mother.

“Why not, may I ask?” He says shocked 

“Pity is something I don’t need. I deal with things myself I don’t need your help.” I harshly say.

He man goes to speak but is cut off the the lady aggressively standing up slamming her hands on the table. “How! By harming yourself, popping pills day and night, rubbing a blade on your skin! Telling yourself you deserve it.” she huffs hardly. Her voice gets softer as she spoke the last words, tears dripping from her eyes. “You don't deserve it and you know you don’t, deep down you know you don’t deserve it my child. My sweet creation, you don’t need to hurt yourself, you won’t feel better. Just accept the help. Please. I’m sorry for being a horrible mother and leaving you, just accept the help.” 

I don’t reply.” 

“Thats all I have.” I state after my mom finishes reading the short story I wrote. 

“How can such a happy person write such gut wrenching stuff, I will never understand.” Shes says trying to figure out where I come up with this stuff. 

“I don’t even know myself” i say skipping out of her room and to mine.”

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