The Unspoken Voice

Chapter 1: Counselling

There are so many hurdles in life and no possible human can jump all of them. There's a span, time of days, even months before one overcomes the inevitable or gives up solving it. Sorry, sorry I'm being too technical again. I just tend to have this habit of abbreviating utterly in a weird language which I call 'too many words'. I seem to do this whenever I'm trying to prove a point or in this case, jump over my own hurdles. My life is complicated because I don't know myself and every single thing that I worked towards and achieved is to impress no one. I don't have a family, siblings or even friends. It's so hard to fit in especially people like me but I manage to get through it. For me it's like when that unbearable hurdle is crossed, another, even more, unbearable hurdle appears, so hard that a few percentage of people in this world can cross it. I will never figure out who I am. Not one soul goes through the same life as me.

Well, there's no real starting to my life but everything I can remember would be the awful parts. One of them being counselling. I awfully, disgust counselling and believe it or not I've been to like 6 for the past 9 years, yet I still am going because I'm forced to by the annoying fosters I live with. To be honest, counselling was making me even more depressed than I already was and everyone tells me it is meant to make me better. When one refers to better it means that they might be experiencing difficulties but I was positive nothing was wrong.

Walking into the black, chip-painted doors are daunting. I always imagine that one day when I enter through those doors I would see something that no human would ever want to see. The room that appears behind the door is so moisture-laden and has a bad waft that flows throughout. The walls look like they've been splashed with a magenta coloured paint which the painters must have forgotten to indulge. Okay, yeah you can say I was exaggerating. Thomas Erack or Dr Erack is my counsellor. Dr Erack would be one of the most annoying counsellors I have ever had, especially due to the fact that he is a wicked witch or a creature from the supernatural world. He had a way of getting to me and it was really creepy most of the time. Unlike other counsellors, he had this specified order to follow which most of the time he says 'kept him alive'. It first started off with the greeting. "Hey come in," he would say gesturing me to the ungrateful looking seat with a small table and multiple stacks of tissue. Then he would get out this big, black book with all different types of sign languages even some that I hadn't even heard of. After flipping through pages he would direct them to me and somehow I would understand, which lead us to an elaborate boring and very depressing conversation. The most I would achieve out of the sessions was that numerous amount of time flies making my life on earth shorter and the sooner the better I can go to heaven, but I won't jump to conclusions not as of yet and who knows if I'll even go to heaven.

He always asked me what was on my mind and my initial reply was Bones. Bones, bones, bones. I could watch it all day and all night not missing an episode. The fact is that it helps me escape from my reality and become attached to a sense of a world that only solves mysteries and crimes. Me, in particular, would love to live in that kind of world because I'm one for detectives and investigators. Being a detective or investigator would be my ultimate dream instead of being stuck here in a cage at Barack's Counselling Centre north-west of historic Georgetown. Counselling doesn't extract any of the negative feelings in my body, it just adds. The whole reason I'm here in this vivid, gloomy, black hole is because of my past the ultimate loop hole to my life which one cant exclude or erase, but I wish I could.