The Prelude
...
"Hello, my name is Darren Kozlowski. Just to let you know, yes my last name is in fact Polish. Since that's usually the first question on people's mind when they hear it, I try to get it out of the way as fast as I can."
The psychologist sitting across from me, whose physical features borderlined on stereotypical, stopped reading that first little tidbit just long enough to give me a look before continuing on.
"I'm twenty two years old, single with no other notable serious relations, including friends. I live alone. And as far as I know, it'll stay that way for a very, very long time."
Again, the man stopped, only this time he surprised me by haphazardly tossing the offending journal aside on the far end of the table separating us. He then removed his heavy pair of reading glasses in order to rub the space in between his eyes, indicating frustration of the highest degree.
With a hearty sigh, he leaned forward and brought his interlaced hands up for his chin to rest on. He waited a moment, making sure the hair on the back of my neck was firmly standing upright before he began again.
"Mr. Kozlowski," he said, another sigh managing to escape through his words, "When I asked you, on a personal note, to start recording your thoughts in whatever way you saw fit, I meant it as a way to open your barriers and start expressing your innermost self. But here…" he stated, pointing at the dollar store, lime green notebook on the far end of the table, "it reads like you're talking in front of a coworker. Awkwardly I'll admit, but from what I gather, that's the norm when it comes to communication."
"Yeah well, h-how do you know that's not just who I really am?" I replied lamely.
The man was unimpressed to say the least, but honestly, I didn't blame him. Although, to my credit, it was more of an attempt at humor really, as much of a failure as it was.
Thankfully, I think he understood so, because he didn't press any further.
"So," he said, after taking a moment to relax back into his chair, "how goes the job? Any complaints or issues? I hear data entry can be a bit crushing on the soul."
"Just t-the… usual, I guess." I was starting to fidget a bit, avoiding eye contact, "Nothing too bad."
"Uh huh," He hummed absentmindedly, "What about your psychiatrist? Has his prescriptions been helping at all?"
"Um," I hesitate to try and think of a good way to answer, "Y-yeah, they are. My-uh, headaches aren't as bad anymore."
"That's good. I remember you telling me how those could be almost debilitating in their severity. To see some progress must be uplifting, correct?"
I nod, finding it hard not to smile at least a little. I mean sure, having to take about half a dozen pills before every meal in order to function can feel a bit depressing, but then again depression isn't exactly what I'm suffering from.
I wish.
A sudden ringing came from a nearby clock, indicating my freedom.
"Well Mister Kozlowski, I believe our time here is up," the psychologist stated as both he and I stood up in order to give each other the customary goodbye handshake, "I'll see you next session."
"Okay," I turn to leave, but his voice stops me.
"Hold up," I turn back around just in time to catch my cheap notebook, "I believe you forgot that."
"Oh, right." I pier down at the offending object with mild disdain.
I guess he noticed because yet another sigh passed his lips before his eyes locked back onto mine.
"Look, Darren," he spoke sternly, finally earning my direct attention, "You're a good guy, really. I never get to meet people with your sense of courtesy."
Whoa, was that a compliment?
"However, from what I can gather, it seems as though you're letting yourself become too… comfortable with your role in this world. Too complacent."
"Oh," I mutter weakly, "Okay
"Listen, all you need to do is find something that motivates you, alright? Find your drive," he suggested, "Do that, and I promise you'll get your confidence back."
Instead of replying in earnest like I probably should have done, I just nodded and made my way passed his door and outside the building, most likely disappointing him to no end.
My drive huh? I thought to myself as I stopped by the closed bus stop, What the fuck does that mean?
And just like that, it started to rain.
Superb