Pancakes and Chocolate Ice-cream

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pancakes and Chocolate Ice-cream

 

 

"No." I inhaled in a broken tone, "I couldn't do it." I stared at the ground between my wobbly feet even though I knew he couldn't see my pathetic tear-edged eyes and trembling lips; it was too dark for either of us to see anything except for the two windows illuminating the slightly disturbing portrait hanging over his head against the wall behind his desk. That was the only thing I liked about his clinic; the dead silence and the dimmed lights. My sessions according to his schedule were arranged late at night. People told me he was mad; that I could simply go there and never return.

 

"Why couldn't you?"

 

"I've already told you!" my head jerked up as I retorted, "Tsk..." I stared back down at the floor, lightly shaking my head, "How in the world will you be able to help a person like me? It's hopeless."

 

"What exactly is hopeless, Lyla?"

 

"This whole life--I mean…I'm too scared to kill myself and I'm too scared to breathe another minute. What the f**k are you supposed to call that?"

 

"Do you think living is hopeless?"

 

"Yes, I do."

 

"Then why are you still alive?"

 

"I don't. f*****g. know." My voice grew cold between clenched teeth and impatience triggered more pointless words, "I mean, seriously…" I sighed, "I live. I study. I work. I love. I get married. I have kids. I grow old. Then I die. Why bother go through all that in the first place if it's always death in the end?"

 

"Do you believe in God?"

 

"Yes. And I'm so mad at Him. It's like--"

 

"Then you must believe in afterlife. Isn't that something to live for?"

 

"F**k afterlife."

 

Silence. A male sigh heaved, and a sound of a pen skillfully scribbling down notes.

 

"Very well. This session is almost over." His voice never wavered from the neutral composed level. I wondered if it sounded the same at home, among his family, which he surprisingly had outside this eerie work zone.

 

"I told you I'm crazy." I shrugged.

 

"Although we haven’t progressed much, I can assure you that admitting the problem is halfway to the cure." So, he did agree I was crazy.

 

Yeah, right…admitting…and s**t, I've been doing it for ages. Your session was useless, you money-sucking four-eyed man.

 

"There has to be something that's keeping you here among us."

 

"Not that I can think of."

 

My best friend and my two sisters; the only people who could make me laugh whole-heartedly and they loved me for who I am; raw form; not a single sting of pretend. But even when they were by my side I suffered. I slowly burnt in this invisible, impossibly addictive pit of hell.

 

"Alright," he finally told me as he stood up, "Last question. What makes Lyla happy?"

 

Okay…so pancakes and chocolate ice-cream were a good reason to stay alive…?

 

"Think carefully of five things that truly make you smile. Write them down. And bring the sheet to me next week."

 

When the hell did you decide that?

 

"Thank you, miss." He politely said. Stupid politeness…"I look forward to our next meeting. Salaam." I politely 'salaam'd back as I pulled up my little hand bag and headed to the door.

 

 Who said there was going to be a next meeting, you a*****e?

 

--- --- ---

 

I wished I hadn't gone near that clinic. I did not feel any better. Infact, the only feeling that overwhelmed me and tackled me down with a loud jeer was: weakness. I exposed some of the deepest, fragile parts of me to a person with a wise look and a commercial degree in understanding what people think and want. S**t…and now that I've thought clearly about it I felt worse. I felt like punching someone and just screaming out loud how f*****g stupid they were, even when I didn't even know their name.

 

I stood by the mini market on the right and a narrow black street greeted me with the constant cricket sounds and fading 'vrooms' of cars. The night seemed serene…too serene, I thought, my eyes twitching in anger preceding a vicious rage.

 

"Stupid night…stupid cars…" I mumbled my breath getting tighter and shorter every second, "Stupid doctor!" I groaned my foot kicking the brick wall on my right, "STUPID PEOPLE!" thinking they know everything… I yelled randomly glaring at the air around. A woman stared at me briefly as she passed by on the sidewalk across. I still didn't feel good though. Now I felt I've announced my weakness to the whole world. I wanted to go home…yet another place I was sick of.

 

I turned to the left and ran straight; my feet racing against the pavement too fast I almost eluded my shadow behind.

 

I wasn't crazy…I told myself, I was just f*****g tired…and I needed rest…a rest from everything, especially the sight of my reflection in the mirror.

 

I slammed the door behind me and I leaned my back against the wardrobe, feeling more trapped than I was at that clinic. Tears flooded generously as I slid down on the floor and my chest grew too tight I almost chocked on anger and vulnerability. After the tears and the loud, pitiful weeping, came the dreadful headache and then the blackness and the weird dreams.

 

My eyes opened to the active sounds of the city outside my half open window and I slowly shifted aside with a deep groan, sitting up in between the twisted sheets. All the frantic memories of last night were merged and consumed by the weird dreams and I wiped my face turning to one side.

 

Having mirrors near your bed prevents a peaceful sleep, they say. It also provides a hilarious picture of yourself as soon as you wake up. I hurriedly tied my hair in a bundle, washed my runny-mascara face, and walked to the sunlit kitchen. I was hungry. Pancakes sounded good. I opened doors of the freezer, fridge, and cabinets. I needed new ingredients. I hadn't gone to the market in a month. Where did I put the honey? Nevermind, ice-cream works too. Did I still have some butter left?

 

Author's Note

Comments, corrections, reviews are all appreciated.

*Image: Pancake Stack

*by =freddofroggy

*Link: http://freddofroggy.deviantart.com/art/Pancake-Stack-172014052?q=boost%3Apopular+chocolate+pancake&qo=5

Reviews

[tshigg]

Good stuff. Your dialogue is great. As a therapist I love it. It makes me smile when I hear dialogue like this about therapy. You are wise beyond your years! And YES I agree Pancakes and chocalate ice-cream are woth livng for. So are snickerdoodles (cookies) and peach cobbler (pie) but that's just me, lol!

[Deviant Works]

My gosh, Wella. This was great.:) I felt really bad for laughing at most of this but I could relate to Lyla's personality. I cannot tell you how many times I have kicked something while cussing the world for being stupid. I could definitely read much more of this, the dialogue was hilarious, her personality is addicting, I even like the a*****e shrink with his weird, disconnected yet connected personality. Pancakes and chocolate ice cream.:) I live for pizza and Twizzlers and a nice cup of spiced tea. Doesn't really sound good together but I am weird.:)

[MissWordSmith]

This was so crazy and different from what I've read. I really think this could become a book about your journey. I mean, it was funny, light (and at the same time deep), ridiculing, and overall very entertaining. But through all that the reader also notes what you're trying to say. There's a sense of confusion, you're not really sure what you are so het-up about. Maybe a particular incident (what I seem to understand) had made you go mad at the whole world. More over I just felt frustration, frustration FRUSTRATION. But there is something that makes you go back to that ''asswhole'' (check that spelling by the way) old drone. His character too is very odd... Addressing you as Lyla, then Miss, not typical for a doctor or psychologist or whatever he technically was. But I sensed there was something about him that made you go back. More like a healing drug than anything... you sensed he wasn't talking all crap.
And WOW I haven't written so much in a review EVER.. so yeah, this really made me think.
The dialogue was so funny.. and contrastive. I liked the actually dialogue and the one in your head... sort of like they were dancing to a tango, wondering who steps where next.
The end was really nice. Calm, serene, back to square one. Maybe the square is a little smaller this time though.
Anyway, please, continue writing. I loved this. And I really believe it could become a book. Yeah. That's all. Whew!
Take care, keep writing!
NYTG

[George Love]

You paint a very real portrait of someone who really needs a reason to live, but also someone who desperately wants help as well. Very real, very well portrayed.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

What a wild ride! This piece sounds like my bi-polar on a bad day! lol I like the expression though...good ranting...f**k it all piece...now where's my pancakes? I'll bring my rasberry syrup.

[Emily Filkins]

I really liked it, the detail is perfect, grammar is good, and the scenery is very nice
the thoughts are very good too

good job

[Marie Harrison]

Very interesting. I think this is very real and raw to me. We all have something to live for, even if it's pancakes and ice cream. I personally love homemade peach icecream. Yummy. If I had any food that I live for it would be fresh cherries. I love cherries. Nice story.

[*Evelen*]

This is sad but very well writen. You described everything well that i could see everything play in my mind. Well done.

[mamabear]

Good read.................well done

love

Mamabear x