SAMANTHA REBA
Staff Writer

“It’s happening again.”

She sat back in her thin-framed chair and looked up from her notes.

“What’s happening? The voices, the thoughts. I can’t seem to keep them out this time. I tried meditating like you suggested, but that’s when they thrive the most. They like the quiet.”

She scribbled notes on the over-sized legal pad of paper that was being balanced on her left knee.

“What are they saying? What’s going through your mind?”

I sit back and take a breath.

“Everything and nothing that’s important. I’ve been thinking about the future a lot and where I’ll end up. Maybe the writing scene isn’t for me.”

I look down at my bitten fingernails and swallow hard. The tears would soon follow but I fought them back in her silence.
“Interesting. So what are you going to do?”

Everyone seemed to be asking that question lately. I even heard someone mention something about career aspirations, but I told them to shut the hell up. Career? Aspirations?

I was lucky that I got out of bed and walked all the way here.

The truth is, I have no idea.

I’ve been making it up all along and now was the moment of truth.

The silence continued and I looked up at the clock that was ticking away every second in which I couldn’t answer.

She looked up for her notes and smiled.

“It’s not that difficult. What do you want to do?”

I sat there.

“I want to be happy.”

She smiled as though I was paying her for my visits. “But what makes you happy?”
“Nothing, except getting out of this place. I want to travel. I want to be far away.”

This answer didn’t satisfy her.

“You’re running away, this is not good. You can’t think like this.”
She was always making this difficult… I could never give her what she wanted.
“But, it makes me happy.”
She sighed and the clock on her desk started to beep.
“Okay, the same time next week?”
“Sure.”

I grabbed my bag and left the room.
Leaving made me happy.

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