Psychotic Disaster

Chapter 23

Morgan

These past few weeks has been an absolute whirlwind, there are so many unexpected moments happened and I still can't process it all.

 It's like my life turned into some romantic comedy with a dash of mystery thriller, and I'm the protagonist stumbling through it all. I mean, how many confessions can one person handle before they start questioning their own sanity? 

I should be the one making a way to date my targets!

First, there was Theodore who confessed by booking a therapy appointment asking me advice on how to confess to someone he likes but it turns out that I was the one he likes, does it make sense? He also showed me his sketch book and most of his sketches was me.

Then, Clive's poetic confession at the park. He invited me for a walk, and I thought it was just going to be a friendly stroll. But no, he had to go and recite a poem about how I light up his life like some kind of ethereal muse. It was beautiful, but also overwhelming. I mean, who does that? I actually don't know how to act at that moment, that was so unusual.

How was I supposed to navigate these complicated emotions while maintaining my professionalism?

"Why am I acting like this?" I sigh.

I'm standing in my office, trying to catch my breath before my next therapy session. 

My mind is a chaotic mess, but I have to pull myself together. I'm a professional, after all. I have clients who need my full attention, no matter how crazy my personal life gets.

I took a deep breath and checked my schedule, and my next client was Mr. Bach Lash. 

He walked in, his expression as stern as ever. He was a tall man with a military bearing, impeccably dressed in a suit that seemed a little too formal for a therapy session. 

He sat down across from me, and I offered him a warm smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Lash." I began, trying to set a positive tone. "How are you today?"

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not great, honestly, I'm not sure these sessions are helping. I'm just forced to be here."

I nodded, acknowledging his frustration. "I understand. Therapy can be a slow process, and sometimes it feels like we're not making progress. Can you tell me what's been particularly troubling for you?"

He sighed heavily. "It's everything, really. Work is stressful, my relationships are strained, and I just feel... stuck."

"That's a lot to deal with," I said, keeping my tone empathetic. "Let's break it down a bit. What's the most pressing issue on your mind right now?"

He looked away, his jaw tightening. "My boss. He's impossible to deal with. No matter what I do, it's never enough for him."

I nodded again. "It sounds like you're dealing with a lot of external expectations. Have you considered setting some boundaries at work?"

Lash's eyes narrowed. "Boundaries? That's easier said than done. You don't understand the kind of environment I'm in."

I took a deep breath, trying to remain patient. "It sounds like your boss has very high expectations. Have you tried discussing these problems with him? Sometimes, having a direct conversation about what he's looking for can help clarify things."

He shook his head, clearly frustrated. "I've tried, but it doesn't work. He's the type of person who doesn't take well to criticism or suggestions."