Post by khardaway on Nov 5, 2009 17:04:15 GMT -5
Do I have to tell you what’s going on here? I’m stuck in this cramped room right now, while a therapist...MY therapist has to tell me why my life is so fucked up right now. I thought I was done with her. By “her”, I mean my therapist. I thought I was done trying to make myself feel better by what she had to say to me about...should I call her the “god damn devil”, or just Angie? Yeah, I had to go through an ordeal about this, the LAST time me and Angie had a scuffle. Back when I thought some douchebag got her knocked up.
Man, I could be doing better things than this right now. I have to spend almost $500 for this. Why so much? Because the bitch is just outside, waiting for my therapist to finish up with me. See, she already had a little talk with her while I had to wait outside, wondering to the person upstairs of why I had to be here...of course, there was actually somebody upstairs...literally. Why? Because she was busy getting her brains fucked out.
If I could’ve been that person boning the shit out of her...
“Mr. Hardaway?”
Umm...was she yelling the WHOLE time?
“Mr. Hardaway, can you hear me?”
Better pay attention to that one now. Sigh. Let me open my eyes and pay attention to her, shall we? Dr. Sarah Myers is the name on the plate of her jacket. Formerly known as Sarah Marshall, she had to change her last name due to a lawsuit and death threats for a former client of her’s. Of course, that client is now behind bars, but Sarah wanted to change her name to avoid any troubles, so she went with her mother’s surname before she got married. Still, just look at her...
Sure she dyed her hair and got new glasses, but...damn. You all are thinking the same thing, aren’t you? Thought so. Anyways, she’s talking again, so...better listen before she has a breakdown of her own.
“Yeah, sorry...I zoned out. Was thinking of something I said the other day.”
Please don’t say what it was...please don’t say what it was...please don’t say what it was.
“Ok. So tell me, what makes you think you and you’re wife need counseling for?”
Really now? Oh boy, this could take awhile...here it goes.
“Ok...”
Sigh. To semi-quote Roger Rabbit on this one...”Dear Angie, how do I LOATHE thee, let me count the ways. ONE one-thousand, TWO two-thousand...” . You know, I really have to stop with the random references.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve been wanting to say that? How many reasons? There’s a million reasons.
She’s inattentive.
She’s brainless.
She’s anti-sympathetic.
The list goes on and on, honey. I just can’t think of any more terms for it. I’m not a “thesaurus” you know. Doesn’t mean I’m stupid, but it doesn’t mean I’m not smart either. I just know when to use my battles for good.”
She’s looking at me like I ain’t got a clue what’s going on? Like I didn’t say a damn thing about her, just rambled on like some parasitic goon.
“That doesn’t make sense, Kevin.”
“It should. How many times have I gone out of my way to make herself look good and feel happy? I can’t even count it enough on my fingers and toes and your fingers and toes. I took care of her, I made sure she had everything she wanted, I loved her with all my freakin’ heart and look what she gave me in return.”
I have to look the other way for a second as I figure out the words to this. Dr. Myers though looks at any papers she has and asks me the question in term.
“What did she give you in return?”
I knew she was going to ask me that. I knew I was going to finish my sentence. Just let me figure out and think about all of the things that she did to me. Things that almost cost me my life. Things that almost cost me my career. God, it’s been a long time for reasoning.
Even she fucked things up during my return to this business. All the way back in 2006.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? What do you mean by “nothing”, Kevin?”
“That’s it....nothing. Zlich. Nada. None. ZERO!”
Ok. Maybe I should tell her everything. It would be better to get it off my chest.
“Let me count the ways, shall we?”
“I thought that you had nothing in return?”
“Oh I do. She gave me nothing in return, but I can tell you what she did to give me nothing in return.”
She pulls out a pen. She wants to write this down for future reference. She’ll need a fucking book to finish all this up.
“She’s cost me my moment in the sun. One little argument and the next day she has to show up to a match of mine and ruin EVERYTHING.”
“She was never there for me when I was switching up careers and going through a rough time...the first go around, not the second go around.”
“Rumors went around that she got knocked up from some random dude. You know that one, I’m sure of it. Of course, I had to find out on my own if Kimberly was mine.”
“Fight after fight after fight that I didn’t even cause.”
“Pissed off that I was moping around, angry that I was losing everywhere I go. You know how I take losses, I go into my own little world, never to be seen for the next few days. She hated that.”
“Faked another pregnancy just to get my head out of focus of one of the most important matches of my life. I WAS TRYING TO GET REDEMPTION FOR HER!”
My mind is racing now with images. Images of a better tomorrow, a better past. Fuck, what past now? I honestly feel, for the first time in my life...nothing. All of those images are nothing more than those you see in picture books. Of course another image burns into my brain.
I reach into my wallet and end up pulling that very picture out and throwing it on her desk. That picture, quite possibly my favorite picture of her ever, my favorite picture of anybody in the history of the known world...is nothing more than a fake. A sham. A fucking lie.
Reaching deep down inside my stomach...yeah, it hurts. Just a little, but it hurts. In the long run, one lonely night, that memory is going to come up though when I’m sleeping. It will happen on a night where I end up getting one of the best sleeps in awhile. And that picture comes up, that memory comes up, everything comes up in the pit of your stomach.
It rises. And rises. And rises until you can smell it burning like acid.
Me just telling everything about that picture to Sarah is just bringing it back up as we speak. Burning inside of my chest like the world’s worst heart attack. In the back of her head, she wants to comfort me, I can feel it. All she can do though is stand up, and look behind me. She can’t touch me, she can’t touch a client. All she can do is say something. Something that I never wanted to hear in all my life.
“What happened?”
Ironically, she never knew about that picture. In the past, right before the biggest night of my life, we made a small pact to each other. I had a small box of belongings of hers and mine. My mission was to go to my local storage garage, find that box and burn it. Burn everything that reminded me of her. Sarah wanted me to move on. I wanted to move on. So I did what was done and burned it all. In a very cliched and stupid fashion, I burned it while it was raining.
Only two pictures came out of it alive. To her recollection, I didn’t tell her about the picture in the snow. I never wanted to burn it for the life of me. The other picture wasn’t my fault, it was Angie’s. She ended up keeping it and putting it in a box of my valuables, much to my surprise, but that’s another story.
Either way, Sarah doesn’t seem too happy about the picture I kept all of these years.
“Kevin, I can’t let you keep this?”
“Why not?”
“Remember our pact? Sure it’s been awhile, but it’s still a damn pact. You can’t let me down on this, sweetheart.”
How sweet of her. How random of her though to call me “sweetheart”. Of course, that’s in my head as she takes the photo and puts it in the shredder near her desk.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”
“Removing your memory.”
The way she said that, it gave me a weird feeling. Like she was some sort of machine or something. The cold, dark chill of those words left a pit in me. No time to think things through though as I jump over and pull the picture out, halfway shredded. There was no need for the picture now, it was destroyed. Why not just finish it off. What a depressing way to go. But wait, I’m not done with her yet. By that, I mean Sarah.
“Why did you do that?”
“Because...obviously you don’t care about her anymore. You don’t seem interested in her, you keep talking down about her like she shot and killed one of your relatives. Look at you, Kevin. You look terrible. You look completely down on your luck.”
Then she said something that left me for a loop. One that I’ll want to forget due to my reaction.
“The only reason you stayed around was because of your daughter.”
Ok, I’ll admit that my upcoming reaction coming up later was definitely unnecessary and wrong. I didn’t know what the hell to do, she mentioned something about my daughter. I didn’t even get the gist of what she said, simply because my mind was still reeling from destroying a loved valuable of mine that I never wanted to let go no matter what. So whatever happens here, I didn’t mean it. I would never mean to harm anybody like that...unless they deserved it.
TO BE CONTINUED!
Man, I could be doing better things than this right now. I have to spend almost $500 for this. Why so much? Because the bitch is just outside, waiting for my therapist to finish up with me. See, she already had a little talk with her while I had to wait outside, wondering to the person upstairs of why I had to be here...of course, there was actually somebody upstairs...literally. Why? Because she was busy getting her brains fucked out.
If I could’ve been that person boning the shit out of her...
“Mr. Hardaway?”
Umm...was she yelling the WHOLE time?
“Mr. Hardaway, can you hear me?”
Better pay attention to that one now. Sigh. Let me open my eyes and pay attention to her, shall we? Dr. Sarah Myers is the name on the plate of her jacket. Formerly known as Sarah Marshall, she had to change her last name due to a lawsuit and death threats for a former client of her’s. Of course, that client is now behind bars, but Sarah wanted to change her name to avoid any troubles, so she went with her mother’s surname before she got married. Still, just look at her...
Sure she dyed her hair and got new glasses, but...damn. You all are thinking the same thing, aren’t you? Thought so. Anyways, she’s talking again, so...better listen before she has a breakdown of her own.
“Yeah, sorry...I zoned out. Was thinking of something I said the other day.”
Please don’t say what it was...please don’t say what it was...please don’t say what it was.
“Ok. So tell me, what makes you think you and you’re wife need counseling for?”
Really now? Oh boy, this could take awhile...here it goes.
“Ok...”
Sigh. To semi-quote Roger Rabbit on this one...”Dear Angie, how do I LOATHE thee, let me count the ways. ONE one-thousand, TWO two-thousand...” . You know, I really have to stop with the random references.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve been wanting to say that? How many reasons? There’s a million reasons.
She’s inattentive.
She’s brainless.
She’s anti-sympathetic.
The list goes on and on, honey. I just can’t think of any more terms for it. I’m not a “thesaurus” you know. Doesn’t mean I’m stupid, but it doesn’t mean I’m not smart either. I just know when to use my battles for good.”
She’s looking at me like I ain’t got a clue what’s going on? Like I didn’t say a damn thing about her, just rambled on like some parasitic goon.
“That doesn’t make sense, Kevin.”
“It should. How many times have I gone out of my way to make herself look good and feel happy? I can’t even count it enough on my fingers and toes and your fingers and toes. I took care of her, I made sure she had everything she wanted, I loved her with all my freakin’ heart and look what she gave me in return.”
I have to look the other way for a second as I figure out the words to this. Dr. Myers though looks at any papers she has and asks me the question in term.
“What did she give you in return?”
I knew she was going to ask me that. I knew I was going to finish my sentence. Just let me figure out and think about all of the things that she did to me. Things that almost cost me my life. Things that almost cost me my career. God, it’s been a long time for reasoning.
Even she fucked things up during my return to this business. All the way back in 2006.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? What do you mean by “nothing”, Kevin?”
“That’s it....nothing. Zlich. Nada. None. ZERO!”
Ok. Maybe I should tell her everything. It would be better to get it off my chest.
“Let me count the ways, shall we?”
“I thought that you had nothing in return?”
“Oh I do. She gave me nothing in return, but I can tell you what she did to give me nothing in return.”
She pulls out a pen. She wants to write this down for future reference. She’ll need a fucking book to finish all this up.
“She’s cost me my moment in the sun. One little argument and the next day she has to show up to a match of mine and ruin EVERYTHING.”
“She was never there for me when I was switching up careers and going through a rough time...the first go around, not the second go around.”
“Rumors went around that she got knocked up from some random dude. You know that one, I’m sure of it. Of course, I had to find out on my own if Kimberly was mine.”
“Fight after fight after fight that I didn’t even cause.”
“Pissed off that I was moping around, angry that I was losing everywhere I go. You know how I take losses, I go into my own little world, never to be seen for the next few days. She hated that.”
“Faked another pregnancy just to get my head out of focus of one of the most important matches of my life. I WAS TRYING TO GET REDEMPTION FOR HER!”
My mind is racing now with images. Images of a better tomorrow, a better past. Fuck, what past now? I honestly feel, for the first time in my life...nothing. All of those images are nothing more than those you see in picture books. Of course another image burns into my brain.
I reach into my wallet and end up pulling that very picture out and throwing it on her desk. That picture, quite possibly my favorite picture of her ever, my favorite picture of anybody in the history of the known world...is nothing more than a fake. A sham. A fucking lie.
Reaching deep down inside my stomach...yeah, it hurts. Just a little, but it hurts. In the long run, one lonely night, that memory is going to come up though when I’m sleeping. It will happen on a night where I end up getting one of the best sleeps in awhile. And that picture comes up, that memory comes up, everything comes up in the pit of your stomach.
It rises. And rises. And rises until you can smell it burning like acid.
Me just telling everything about that picture to Sarah is just bringing it back up as we speak. Burning inside of my chest like the world’s worst heart attack. In the back of her head, she wants to comfort me, I can feel it. All she can do though is stand up, and look behind me. She can’t touch me, she can’t touch a client. All she can do is say something. Something that I never wanted to hear in all my life.
“What happened?”
Ironically, she never knew about that picture. In the past, right before the biggest night of my life, we made a small pact to each other. I had a small box of belongings of hers and mine. My mission was to go to my local storage garage, find that box and burn it. Burn everything that reminded me of her. Sarah wanted me to move on. I wanted to move on. So I did what was done and burned it all. In a very cliched and stupid fashion, I burned it while it was raining.
Only two pictures came out of it alive. To her recollection, I didn’t tell her about the picture in the snow. I never wanted to burn it for the life of me. The other picture wasn’t my fault, it was Angie’s. She ended up keeping it and putting it in a box of my valuables, much to my surprise, but that’s another story.
Either way, Sarah doesn’t seem too happy about the picture I kept all of these years.
“Kevin, I can’t let you keep this?”
“Why not?”
“Remember our pact? Sure it’s been awhile, but it’s still a damn pact. You can’t let me down on this, sweetheart.”
How sweet of her. How random of her though to call me “sweetheart”. Of course, that’s in my head as she takes the photo and puts it in the shredder near her desk.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”
“Removing your memory.”
The way she said that, it gave me a weird feeling. Like she was some sort of machine or something. The cold, dark chill of those words left a pit in me. No time to think things through though as I jump over and pull the picture out, halfway shredded. There was no need for the picture now, it was destroyed. Why not just finish it off. What a depressing way to go. But wait, I’m not done with her yet. By that, I mean Sarah.
“Why did you do that?”
“Because...obviously you don’t care about her anymore. You don’t seem interested in her, you keep talking down about her like she shot and killed one of your relatives. Look at you, Kevin. You look terrible. You look completely down on your luck.”
Then she said something that left me for a loop. One that I’ll want to forget due to my reaction.
“The only reason you stayed around was because of your daughter.”
Ok, I’ll admit that my upcoming reaction coming up later was definitely unnecessary and wrong. I didn’t know what the hell to do, she mentioned something about my daughter. I didn’t even get the gist of what she said, simply because my mind was still reeling from destroying a loved valuable of mine that I never wanted to let go no matter what. So whatever happens here, I didn’t mean it. I would never mean to harm anybody like that...unless they deserved it.
TO BE CONTINUED!
