"Yesterday you said that you feel that life is pointless. Why would you say so?"
"Don't you ever feel like your life is just a routine?"
"How so?"
"You wake up. Eat breakfast. Go to work. Listen to other people's issues. Go home. Eat dinner. Repeat. Maybe one day you decide to grab a coffee or maybe one day you work out. The moments in between are insignificant save for perhaps when you're with your husband. Nevertheless, it's an endless routine. So pointless."
"When I come to work, I listen. Every person that comes to me has a different story to tell. Not a single one of them will be the same. I listen, and I try my best to help. Sometimes I feel like it's repetitive, but every time I am reminded it is not. I am reminded of that when I see a spark of hope enter a patient's eyes. I am reminded of the purpose of why I live, the purpose I have in life, and that is to see that small spark alight their eyes with life and hope. My purpose in life is to help people, it is what I've always done and it is what I'll always do. So tell me, what is your purpose in life?"
Silence.
Anne-Marie was a special therapist. She worked privately, and specialised in suicidal and clinically depressed patients.
"You're one of the good ones."
"What do you mean?"
"You're one of the few therapists that care. The other shrinks would look at me, scoff at my perfect life and grab the money from my parents."
The girl didn't sound sad or bitter, only factual. It seemed as if nothing could affect her. Yet here she was.
"I always strive to help the best I can."
"I don't know what my purpose in life is. I don't feel passionate about anything. Football is fun, but I can't see myself as a professional player. I like to learn, but I can't see myself as an engineer or a doctor or a lawyer. I don't feel much passion for anything really."
"Maybe it's time that you find something that truly interests you, and wakes up that fire inside of you."
Silence.
Anne-Marie saw another crack in the calm exterior of the girl.
