Therapy » m.c

[3] Homework

"What screws us up most in life is the picture in our head of how it is supposed to be."

- Tumblr

. . . . .

Michael

"This week's topic is Connection." Mark announces. We are currently on day 22, week 3 to recovery. And I've got to admit, I can't say I feel any different than I did before ever agreeing to this. So by default, I lose.

Illness- 3 Michael- 0

"For three weeks now, we've all been working on trying to connect with our inner selves, yes?" He looks around for affirmation, getting a few nods here and there. "We were aiming to understand how our brains process certain scenarios, what we think of, and why we think of those types of things. Now, it's time take a leap of faith." I scoff, shaking my head at his words.

How ignorant can one man really be?

He should know the types of people he's dealing with here. Telling those with suicidal tendencies to "take a leap of faith" is not the brightest of decisions. Especially coming from the help.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Clifford." He inquires me, tilting his head slightly. He looks genuinely confused. They really couldn't've gotten a more brilliant counselor than Mark. If anything, I feel like I am more fit for his position than he himself, but we are on totally different spectrums. I'm, well, I'm me, and he's...Mark.

As you can tell, I have a doctorate in explaining things thoroughly. I am really looking forward to pursuing a career on the lines of that specific field and double majoring in explanation theory.

"No, no go on ahe- actually...yeah, yeah I do." I call out, changing my mind sporadically, causing Mark to physically stiffen.

"I find it exceptionally amusing on your choice of words. 'Take a leap of faith.'" I point out, using his words against him. "Really? Really Mark?" I ask rhetorically, his mouth opens to respond, but I cut him off, shaking my index finger. "Na ah ah, I haven't finished yet." Mark closes his lips, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

"Cut yourself some slack, my friend. Half of the reasons why we're all here is because we took a leap in the first place." I put my two palms together, moving them in a downward 'u' formation, like a dolphin jumping out of water.

I watch as Mark slowly walks back to the podium, managing to bump into it. He's noticeably shaken up and in a twisted way, I'm enjoying the sight. Seeing him so frightened... it's riveting and only makes me crave more. Taking my focus away from his distressed face, I watch as his hand slyly searches for something behind what my line of vision can make out.

"You can't possibly think I'm a threat, do you?" I sit farther up in my chair than I usually do, crossing my arms over my chest. I try to make the point across that the tables have turned and I am more than comfortable with the newly assumed position over little old Mark.

"Uh yeah no, sir- I mean, Mr. Gordo-Clifford, um Michael...no." Mark stammers over his words, his eyes wildly looking my way, awaiting my next move.

"Then why must your hand be feeling around for that button which, I don't know, may or may not be used to call in security?" I theatrically shrug. A few whistles and claps sound from all corners of the room. I'm really liking this kind of superiority over Mark.

Just say it already. I already know what you're thinking.

'That's so demented, Michael.' Or 'Michael, why are you doing this?'