WHO AM I

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He softly put the pen in his hand on the work table and turned his gaze towards the young man across from him. he must have been in his early twenties, but he was tired, and he could see it from the depth of his gaze. He lowered his gaze to the file on the table, and took the file in his hand with heavy movements, and moved his eyes around the file in front of him. His often changing face made it clear that he was trying to comprehend what he was reading, and he had difficulty reading it because he was not wearing his glasses. After a few minutes of silence, the middle-aged psychologist put the file back on the table and turned his gaze to the teenager with his slightly squinted eyes... With a pair of eyes he felt on him, he moved from his seat and moved his back from the seat and changed his position by leaning his elbows against his knees. The psychologist George  looked at the inscription on the table, and then he strolled his gaze through the room. There was also a wooden coffee table between the two seats, two of which were drawn behind the curtains of closed windows, only one window was open, from which the noise of the city filled each side of the room. As the doctor's Voice touched his ear, he stopped examining the room and turned his gaze to the man in front of him, probably asking dozens of questions and then setting up many sentences to explain that he could recover after a long treatment. However, they did not understand.. It's okay, if they'd understood, he wouldn't be in this room. The psychologist man who was waiting for him to speak so everything he would talk about was spaced out, with all the simplicity of his lips.  

I never wanted to be so quiet, I wanted to scream for the first time.. I wanted to throw up all my hate, all my longing, all my grudges. I kept quiet because there were no people who would understand if I spoke, and I kept quiet because all the people who understood me were in my head, and I didn't need to speak for them to hear me. I miss him, the longing to attempt my existence. I didn't want to kill myself, doctor, I wanted to kill the part of me that misses my mother, not myself.  Do you understand me? I had no one.I was alone. I had to grow up alone. Do you know why? I also loved being alone in case I loved her too, and she would one day go away like all the others. I like her too, doctor. don't you like loneliness? Do you need something concrete to love? No one ever loved me Why am I a bad person? I am not. Was I a bad person when I was six? I wasn't. Why? Was it worth the glory of my balloons that I freed one day? Maybe one day, maybe one day, really loneliness will free my soul. What was freedom? Have the life you want? Or was freedom included in the fact that oxygen was stuffed into our lungs without paying a price? Even the breath we take does not stay inside us, it is not included in freedom to be alive. I was trapped in the loneliness of the darkness I was banished to, and still in me the dream of the day I would be reunited with the sky like a child... But, do you know? I never had flying balloons. He couldn't Love Me In God, doctor, and I read in a book, " God keeps his loved ones with him."I'm here, he doesn't love me, I remember my mother talking about me loving his, vaguely.. Mom, I didn't know how to love.. Is it not selfish to want an unloved soul to love someone else? Tell me? It's my mind that's sick, but even though yours can't answer those questions, whatever.You want me to shut up? No, I can't.I'm sorry.. I'm rude, aren't I? Forgive me, doctor. forgive me. I can't be silenced again.understand me.  My Mom's leaving... She's got a white coat on her, blond hair hanging over her coat.. That is going to go tell my mom not listening stop going and see if it doesn't look I'm not yelling at you, maybe you listen to is going to look. Why did you let me, doctor? Why didn't you tell her to stay? Why didn't you tell her your son needed you?. Adriel's first personality was shown in the event he described himself.. It was perhaps the most innocuous and innocent of all, a child who missed his mother, whose personality must have come into being with his mother's departure.. Or it wasn't, maybe it was his personality who was responsible for everything as much as he seemed most innocent... His voice as a child and his wandering eyes. He was emotional, timid, lonely... Observation she wrote it in his notebook in front of him and then posed another question to the young man. I want you to tell me about the moment you first faced your fears, will you?"First there was a deep silence, then he opened her lips.Dark.. It's very dark.. She's crying, I say don't cry, don't cry.. Ornament.. Crying more crying I can't stand ornament.. It smells like blood in here..You have white blood.. the White is dirty.. He doesn't stop crying now, silent.. Sleeping.. Sirens.. Shut up, shut up, shut up.. They took my sister and they'll wake her up.. Don't take her away from me.. Leave and let me sleep. I couldn't stop it, they're gone.She's been asleep for four days. why are they gonna wake her up? If he wakes up, I put her to sleep, so they don't wake her up..

 Five years after his first personality, another had formed. He was a boy who killed his eleven-year-old sister this time, but he doesn't remember that he caused his sister's death.He also made brief notes about the new personality he had just known, turning his gaze to the young patient. They made eye contact for the first time, and seemed to want to hide themselves with their cold, distant gaze. He was going to pose a new question, which the doctor started telling himself without asking.I don't know who I am, which one am I, Doctor?The boy who lost his mother? Or the one who killed his sister? Who am I? The man who is tired, exhausted, withdrew his hand from everything, like the man in his eighties at times?Or the young man who killed himself with a gun to his temple in front of his father?Who am I? Which one am I now? I feel something.. I feel things that are mixed up, not devoid of emotion, but emotions are not like memories, my memories are not as clean as my feelings, doctor. We're all sure of that, everyone in me agrees with me.. If your heart is dirty, your mind is polluted day after day by the blood it pumps, and the cleanest part of my mind is the darkest part of the black.. He looked at the clock on the wall, it was about to be four. Thought or so I think.

He was in the last minutes of his session today, and then he turned to the doctor and said,;

Have you thought about it? Maybe it's time for happiness, maybe it's late, or maybe it's gone, the good times we've been waiting for in our lives, and we've missed it?

   Hello everyone. I wrote my first story actually i wasnt sure publish it   but later i thought like that ı live to today maybe tommorow ı can stay late for my dreams so  decided and i wrote. I hope so you are going to like my story. Omg. I need your comments guys. Do you want to be a little family? Yeah we are family now.