Imagines [e.m]

Tomorrow is nearly yesterday.

"So, how are you feeling today Mr. Musk?" Asked Dr. Brent, Elon Musk's psychiatrist. His family and friends suggested him to go to see a psychiatrist because of all the stress he was accumulating and all the bad things that happened in his life: he was going through a tough divorce, Tesla wasn't doing great and people started to lose faith in SpaceX. Elon had so many responsibilities that no one else but him could make it work. But that's the problem; it seems like the whole world is relying on Elon. At least that's how he felt. But he wouldn't say it, he wanted to show a bright side of him, like everything is fine and he's not depressed and stressed at all. But it wasn't what the reality is about. He knew it.

"I'm great. I.. I feel great. I feel.. normal." He said, lying. He felt miserable, he felt like he was pushed to the edge like he was going to explode or burst in tears at any moment. And little did he know, the psychiatrist could see it.

"No Elon. You're not feeling great, stop lying. It's not by lying that we're going to make it better." The psychiatrist said, kind of pissed. Every time it's the same thing: Elon is lying, they get angry and nothing is working. This time, it needs to be better. It's their last chance. "Why are you lying?" He said, taking his glasses off.

"I don't want people to know I don't feel good." The CEO said, sadly. He finally started to talk with honesty, something he never did in therapy. "I guess I just don't want the world to rely on a depressed and sad guy. I don't want the world to rely on me. Everyone needs to understand I'm human as well. Everyone needs to understand I'm sentient. I'm not just a clever dude that makes rockets and cars. I'm.. I'm human." He said, looking at his hand, picking at the dead skin near his nails, making himself bleed. It was what he was doing when he wasn't biting his nails.

"That's what we want, honesty. Tell me more, why do you think the world is relying on you?" The psychiatrist said, taking note on his book.

"I guess people are waiting for me to take them to Mars or to make affordable Tesla. They want it now. And I don't want to let them down." He said, looking down, in a sad tone.

"That's why you work so much?" The Psychiatrist asked, playing with his pen, biting the end.

"Yeah.. I guess making everyone happy is my priority." Elon said. He felt kind of childish to say that, even though it was something he thought about for a while.

"And does it means putting humankind before your health?" The psychiatrist asked, scribbling his copybook.

"I.. Yeah." Elon said, looking at his hand. He was nervous talking about it, he never opened up like that before.

"Alright.. that's it for today. I'm happy we finally had to talk about what bothered you. Do you take the medication I told you to take?" The psychiatrist said, looking at his old note.

"Yeah." Elon said, putting his jacket on, rolling his eyes. He wasn't taking any medication, he didn't even know what they looked like.

"It's important, it's anti-anxiety and antidepressants, it's to make you feel a bit better. Do you feel any changes?" He asked.

"Just a bit. Nothing too crazy." He said, looking at the paper that was on his pocket. He should consider buying the pills.

"Well.. we'll make it like.. hum.. try to take it 2 times a day; in the morning, and before going to sleep. Alright?" The psychiatrist said, writing this on his book.

"Alright. I got to go. Goodbye." Elon said, kind of over this. He waved goodbye at his psychiatrist before going to the pharmacy to buy the medication.

He went to the closest one and give them the prescription, just wanting to feel better. It felt like he could die right now and it would feel better. He felt so bad, he never felt like that before.