Psyche, Lost

January 26, 2014

She glanced down my list, which only ended at thirteen. Reading a few under her breath, she looked over to me. “The assignment was fifteen… and some of these are so very thoughtful and sweet.”

“I had trouble of thinking of things,” I replied. “As for the sweet? I just….” I look down to my twisting fingers as if they would speak for me. “I just guess that what I want has so much to do with the love of my friends and family.”

“No millions of dollars, multiple houses around the world, and dates with movie stars?”

I shake my head and roll my eyes. “I don’t think that’s me.”

She jots down a few notes on the legal pad. I notice that it’s white today, not yellow like last time.

“So, Psyche,” Dr. Everson continues in a conversational tone, , “How is everything going? Who loves you right now?” She stops abruptly and holds up her hand, palm out.  “No… not your family and friends. I mean a man. How’s your intimate life? Who takes care of you?”

I snort a little at that. “C’mon Dr. Everson. I have no intimate life. I don’t have anybody. This is ‘me‘.” I wave my hands in the air, as if her view of me was hazy and I needed to clear it.

It’s her turn to shake her head. Her mouth has dropped open slightly, and she looks a little surprised. “How can you have nobody?” She continues shaking her head. “You’re a smart woman, talented, kind. And you’re beautiful. You’re beautiful on the inside and out.” She repeats, “How can there be nobody?”

“Dr. Everson… no, I’m not,” I whisper, and I look down, feeling like a failure. “I’m not beautiful — I have no one.”


One comment

  1. I know how you feel. But really… you ARE beautiful.

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