M (yet to be decided.)

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
an excerpt of what might become something, an idea i've had for a long time.
a psychologist with a sick fixation on his patients.
in need of improvement, this is my first attempt.

Submitted: July 29, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 29, 2016



- She looks so sad

I don’t like that…

Feeling sad herself she is taken by that feeling, for a moment nothing else exists. She feels ecstatic, for feeling is not something that happens very often, the sadness was the cause of something that shouldn’t be called happiness, but perhaps a blissful line of thought that she didn’t want to ever end.

- And why…

She turns her face at him abruptly, with a mad look in her eyes, she loses her expression.

In a discredited smirk, something not quite anger fills her, a void, she had just lost her everything and was indeed upset

- This always happens – she bites her lower lip, and softly nods her head making a no sign. – and there’s nothing I can say, there really is nothing, I can’t put words together I…

Her mind is a blank space, she doesn’t know if she is actually feeling or not, probably not, but it doesn’t matter nothing does, and it’s not as if she controls what matters or not, like most people do, somehow she is not in control of “this” she is and it’s not as if there’s something in control, nothing is. There is nothing and there is nothing to control even though apparently there is something, as every people in this world seem to think, she doesn’t.

To her there is nothing to do, nor there is, nor is or do or whatever. But it’s not as if she has a choice, there is no choice, there is not . Period.

- This can’t go on, I can’t explain what but, this – her eyes run all over the room – can’t… - she sighs in frustration, because she is completely unable to put what she “feels” in words, like everything else, words are not, they have no meaning.

As slightly annoying as her condition might be to him, he knows what she talks about, without saying many words they’ve reached consent even though they barely shared looks, their minds were connected.

She was sitting with her legs in the chair, her head tilted to her right. Quiet and frustrated.

He was sitting normally, with his right hand on the chair’s arm, and his left hand holding a pen, his head tilted to his right. Quiet and understanding.

As they sat opposite to each other, the silence grew bigger.

That could not last.

As to them there was nothing, there couldn’t be.

This paragraph doesn’t exist, it can’t, nothing can. It will keep not existing till the nex


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