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Karachi , Pakistan
Just your average person, who loves to use her thoughts and imaginations to weave stories and express her mind through her words.
I love art in all forms, expressing yourself through different ways, be it writing your feelings on paper, calming yourself with colorful strokes while you paint, releasing the stress while you dance or just being immersed in the music you listen to.
A dark night, A sky with no stars Flickering lights in the distance, Silence that alarms. Being lonely, being quiet, Being away from the noise and riot. Scared, afraid, the dark will suffocate, Make me crazy, or my sadness would elevate. What seemed like a nightmare in the early years, Turns into pleasure as youth appears. What seemed haunting as a child, Now brings peace in a world so wild. Who says, the darkness consumes you, I say, it cures blues and lets you start anew.
Once scared, once hurt, once used, once betrayed, never trusts again. The emotional rollercoaster one goes through along this process is immensely exhausting to the point they don't want to try it again in the fear that it could end in failure again. A broken heart shatters into pieces like glass, it takes time and struggle to be put back together but nonetheless it's still broken, the cracks still there, sure it's been glued together and fixed like putting puzzle pieces together but in the end, it's just one touch away from breaking down again. Trusting some the first time is easy cause you've hot nothing to lose but trusting again is tough, cause you've experienced the loss and the eminent pain is something that can't just be erased from one's mind. So when that person prepares themselves to trust again, they know the consequences, they know they could potentially face failure but they still try, ready to embrace the pain all over again if it's a hoax again just because of that glimmer of hope that this time maybe it'll be different. But no one can live life with being scared, no one can move ahead without experiencing pain or hurt, in order to get to the end of the rainbow, one has to struggle, so try, maybe not today but someday, when you feel a sense of sincerity in a kind heart. But till then, love yourself.
We both sat back down in silence for a moment, neither sure how to bridge the gap. Finally, he spoke. “I'm trying, honey. I'm trying to do as you asked, but it's so hard. I need the liquor since I have nothing else in my life. Every day is just so hard. It's so hard being alone. Having nothing, being nothing. I can't-“ I was supposed to play the part of a therapist. He was supposed to be just another client. But seeing him now, seeing him bare his soul, I knew I was fooling myself. Ivy was right, this counsel was beyond my capabilities. “Are you still drinking?” He looked at me with such doleful eyes. “Yes.” “How much?” “Nearly-“he paused. “Nearly same as before.” “Then we're done here.” I said with an air of finality. “No, please! I can change! I-“ “Dad- Henry. You said that last time. And the time before that. You said that when mom died.” I was shaking. “I can't do it. I can't watch you waste away. I've tried to help. I failed.” “No, honey, you didn't! I'm doing so much better because of you!” He was lying. I could see his physical condition deteriorating. If anything, he was doing worse. “Henry Price, I'm sorry, but I can't help you.” I really thought that maybe this time I could. I let myself believe that maybe he could change. I agreed to this meeting knowing full well it was him knocking at my door. I was being a fool, he hadn't changed since last we met. “Please- please don't do this, honey.” “I'm going to have to ask you to leave now. Our time has expired.” I could feel the emptiness in my chest, a total disconnect from my own emotions. I was operating on auto-pilot. “Furthermore, I will no longer be able to take you in as a client. I can refer you to other therapists if need be. But effective immediately, your patronage has been terminated.” The naked grief on his face said so much. But, just as it normally goes, his grief transformed to anger. He stared at me in open contempt one final time. “Fine. So be it. It seems I've lost both a wife and a daughter then.” I watched him leave, staring at his back the entire time. He never turned back once. Never tried to speak nor argue. Henry Price walked with a purposeful stride. He had found his resolve. THE END
“That's a lot to unpack, Henry. Quite a few crosses to bear. Why don't we focus on one at a time, shall we? Let's talk about the alcohol.” I said. It took every ounce of effort to keep my composure. Henry seemed deflated when I directed the conversation down this avenue. Reluctantly he adhered. “What do you want me to say? I drink. I need it. Can't live without. Don't want to. It helps me ease the pain.” “And you don't think that's contributing to your current problem of being lost?” “Contributing? It's the only thing that's helping. If it weren't for the liquor, I'd have absolutely nothing left!” I felt my teeth grinding at his omission. “But you don't think the liquor played a part in that?” I said. My tone was much more aggressive then I'd have liked it to be. I was sitting up, straight as an arrow, staring transfixed on Henry Price. “No! The drink has nothing to do with it, okay? My wife passed and now my daughter won't even speak a word to me. That's the root of my problems!” “Well what about before your wife passed? Did you or did you not already have issue with drinking?” Henry sat up so that he could turn and look my way. We were staring at each other, no longer hiding behind pretense. “So I like to have a drink every now and then,” he said ruefully. “So what? Everyone does. It's normal, ain't it?” “Normal,” I said my teeth clenched. “Is not consuming a bottle of whiskey a day. Normal is drinking one bottle of beer, not an entire case every single day.” He was shouting now. “You don't get to say what's what! You think you know so much! But you don't! You don't know what it's like to lose a wife and have your own daughter cut you out of their life!” I couldn't take it anymore. “No, but I know what it's like to lose a mom!” I gave him a seething gaze. “And you know what? I also know what it feels like to lose a dad.” “I'm. Right. Here!” He bellowed. “You're not!” I was yelling now, nearly at the top of my lungs. “Don't you dare try to pretend you're you. We both know what you've become and I won't have it! I told you- I told you! You either kick your drinking habit to the curb or never speak to me again.” “I lost your mother! Don't you know how hard this is for me?” “No! You were drinking long before she died. Don't give me that crap! You did this! You did this with your drinking! She's gone because of it!” The shouting match had reached such a crescendo that Ivy had to interrupt our session. She crashed through the door, a mortified look on her face. “W-what is going on here!? I can hear you from outside the building! The next client has excused herself!” We both turned to her and felt her ire cast upon us. Our heads hung low and we both offered a sheepish apology of sorts. “I knew this was a bad idea,” Ivy said. “Your open door policy should not have extended towards family. You should have known better! If you two can't continue this conversation peacefully, then I'm going to have to end this meeting immediately.” Henry-my father-apologized as best he could. “I won't be a bother anymore, I just need to get some stuff off my chest.” “Then keep your voices down.” She said. Before she left, she shot me a withering gaze that told me her message went doubly so for me.
“He's here, your 10 o'clock,” Ivy said to me. She hovered at the door for a moment and I caught the look on her face. She was anxious- for me. “Do you need anything?” I braced myself, gripping the handles of my chair. In that moment my mind had gone blank, I didn't know what I needed. Instead I swallowed and did my best to act normal. “No thank you. I'm ready to accept the patient.” I wasn't and we both knew that. I knew she was concerned for me, but she said nothing. Instead she nodded as she excused herself, leaving me alone in my dim lit office. My thoughts ran rampant then. Why did I allow anyone or anything access to my counseling services? My slogan was “Whoever you are, it doesn't matter, my door is always open. Therapy is for everyone. Rich or poor, good or bad, lawyers, doctors, homeless, criminals.”, all these attributes didn't matter, I only wanted to see individuals seeking help and guidance. In retrospect, it had been a wild gambit that drew in the most outlandish of clientele. Some came to me, speaking of their woes, how their problems torment them every day. Some shared their petty squabbles. Some told me the heartache that came with their loved ones leaving them. Some told me the emptiness that accompanies them in their lives. I let anyone in through my doors, listening to their issues. My notoriety grew because of it. Everyone was welcomed. I was regretting that decision now. A moment later, Ivy returned, a old aged man following close behind her. I saw him then, really saw him, and I could feel my skin grow cold. There was nothing ostentatious about him, no rimmed horns at his temple, no flames spouting from his eyes, just a simple man who had been long in the tooth and had a notable limp to his gait. He filled me with a terror unlike any of my patients before. And let's just say I had given counsel to demons from hades. “Please,” I said, motioning with my hand towards the empty seat. “Is there anything we can get you before we begin, Mr. Price?” He spoke with a nervous energy about him, “No, no need to trouble yourselves. Your lovey assistant here already offered me some water. That's enough for me.” He sounded nervous. Scared even. It made me all the more tense. “And uh- if it's alright you can just call me Henry.” I gave a cursory nod but said nothing. When he made for the seat, I subconsciously gripped my pen so hard that my knuckles began to burn. Breathe, I reminded myself. Just breathe. “So, Henry. What is it you'd like to talk about today?” He leaned back, the dim lights of the room obscuring his face. I could make out the deepening lines that age had left him, he looked haggard, ancient even. “You know, I'm not quite sure how to begin. I've never done this before.” He admitted with a shy chuckle. “That's alright. It's common really, no one ever knows how to address the issue right away.” “Even the criminals?” He asked. “I figured those heartless souls wouldn't-“ He was talking about other clients. Privileged clients. I stopped him there. “That is not for discussion, Mr. Price. This session is about you and nothing else.” “Oh! Of course, of course how stupid of me. I'm so sorry.” I stifled the heat that began to rise in my cheeks. “No matter. Why don't you tell me what you're feeling right now?” He took a moment to dwell on his thoughts. When he was ready, he said. “I'm just- I'm just feeling lost is all.” “Lost?” “Yeah. Lost. Don't really know what I'm doing with my life anymore.” I began scribbling notes on my pad. “I see. Is it too painful for you to discuss?” “I- a little bit. But I suppose this is why I'm here.” “Then if you don't mind, let's explore that feeling. Why are you feeling lost, Henry?” I leaned in closer as he sucked in a deep breath. I could see the splotches of liver spots on his mottled skin. “Well, ever since my wife passed, everything in my life got turned upside down-“ I felt my muscles clenching but said nothing. “Nothing feels right anymore. I'm always so alone. I've been drinking more, damn near drink myself silly every night.” He said. The flood gates were beginning to open and his woes were flowing. “I um, I try to reach out- to my only daughter. She wants nothing to do with me. Not since my wife passed.” I could feel the heat coursing through my veins. When I tried to speak, I felt the phlegm in my throat. I sputtered, forcing myself to take a swig of water.