He walked into his psychiatrist's cabin, without a sliver of hope on his face. The psychiatrist looked at him with her radiant eyes, full of hope. He knew that curious look. He knew what her ears yearned for—a few less depressing words from him this time. She gave him a wide smile.
Oh, how immensely he hated that smile. He had a tornado moving in his head, and on seeing her smile, it moved faster. Her smile was like a stretched bow with an arrow directing towards his already injured heart.
For him, each visit to her was purposeless. Every time, he knew what was going to happen. He would narrate his pitiable story to her, and then, all she would do was nod and write on a paper a list of medicines. For him, each visit was a reminder of the fact that his life would always remain an unresolvable mess or in better words, a dark hell.
So, this time, he had decided to break the monotonous cycle. He decided to remain silent and to simply shake his head or nod because he knew that telling his story would never make a difference.
Seeing him quiet, she started writing on a paper, and then said, "I've referred you to a therapist. You need a talk therapy." Listening to her, he nodded with a smirk, knowing nothing would ever change his reality.
Oh, how immensely he hated that smile. He had a tornado moving in his head, and on seeing her smile, it moved faster. Her smile was like a stretched bow with an arrow directing towards his already injured heart.
For him, each visit to her was purposeless. Every time, he knew what was going to happen. He would narrate his pitiable story to her, and then, all she would do was nod and write on a paper a list of medicines. For him, each visit was a reminder of the fact that his life would always remain an unresolvable mess or in better words, a dark hell.
So, this time, he had decided to break the monotonous cycle. He decided to remain silent and to simply shake his head or nod because he knew that telling his story would never make a difference.
Seeing him quiet, she started writing on a paper, and then said, "I've referred you to a therapist. You need a talk therapy." Listening to her, he nodded with a smirk, knowing nothing would ever change his reality.
—Amrit Versha
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