Dr. Angel

It started when I moved into a new house. Everything was fine for two months? Three? Well, I don't remember exactly. But one day, I was returning from work and was about to go upstairs to my apartment. The building guard stopped me and started talking about things I really didn't care about. I wasn't even listening to what he was saying; the noise in my head was louder than his voice.

I wonder about him every time he talks to me. How can he be that way? Is that really him, or is he pretending in front of me? If it's genuine, I pity him. Well, in truth, I'm the loser here. Even though he's a trivial person who cares about things that are unremarkable, he's happier than I am. Or as they say, the more you understand the world, the worse your mental state becomes. Anyway, while he was talking to me, I noticed something strange on the stairs. I saw a skull with blood dripping out of it and gradually running down the stairs. As he was talking, I was staring at it. He asked me, "What are you looking at?"

Seriously, you idiot, can't you see that? It's as clear as day. I told him there was a mouse and it ran away, so he went chasing after it. But how did he not see that skull? It's still there, and blood is oozing out of it.

I got closer and began to examine it closely. Is this real? Or is my imagination deceiving me? Am I supposed to be scared? Why am I so calm? Have I forgotten how to feel fear? Okay, my head, please stop talking for a moment and let me think.

The stupid guard came back and said he didn't find anything and started talking again about his son who thinks he's a genius because he can read and write.

But I need silence to think. What is that skull? My head started talking again, wanting to tell the guard to shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up.

"Shut up, you idiot!"

"Oh, I apologize for bothering you. I guess you had problems at work. I'm sorry."

Oh no, I actually said that out loud, it wasn't just in my head. What should I tell him? How do I get out of this situation? I need to think quickly.

"No, no, not at all. I didn't mean you. Actually, I was talking to my phone, it follows voice commands."

"Okay, no problem. Have a nice day."

"You too."

Now, what about that skull? Ah, I'm really tired. I'll check it later. I went into my apartment, took a shower, and lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. My mind wouldn't stop talking so I could sleep. What if others could hear my mind? That would be the worst thing in the world.

Bzzz bzzz bzzz bzzz. Ah, the alarm. I lived another day. I took a shower, got dressed, and went to work. On my way down, I didn't see the skull or the blood that was dripping from it. Was that a dream? Or was my mind tricking me? Hmm, whatever.

I went to work. I don't believe in psychiatry because it's not realistic at all. Sadness and happiness are nothing but chemicals secreted by your body, but people reject that idea because they find it somewhat complicated and choose to go to someone and talk to them. Really? Am I supposed to give you those chemicals through talking or what? I'm not a magician. But delusion works too. I do nothing but sit in front of them, just like the girl in front of me, and let her talk about her problems. Somehow, she deludes herself into thinking it helps, and she heals on her own.

I sometimes feel sorry for humans. It's funny, right?

I can't stand sitting here every day with my mind thinking about these trivial things. Did she wash her hands before coming here? Why are her shoes dirty? Why doesn't she clean them?

While she was talking about the decline of her love story with someone, my mind kept talking about those things. I don't care about love, and I don't care about that naive girl's story, but I can't do anything.

Bzzz bzzz bzzz. Oh, our session for today is over. See you next week, goodbye.

I'm tired of repeating these things every day.

Huh, when will the day come when all this changes?

"Doctor, your next patient has arrived."

"Okay, let her in."

Oh, it's been a long time since I've had a patient like this. She cares about her clothes, wears gloves, her shoes are clean, interesting. But let me guess, is she going to complain about her boyfriend? Hmm, I don't think so. I expect it's a family matter. Did her father leave them when she was young? Well, that suits her a bit.

"Hello."

"Hi."

Her voice has a quiver, I bet she's going to cry soon.

"My name is—"

"Please don't disclose your personal information. Just talk about the problem directly."

"Okay, I came here to talk about an issue that happened when I was a child. My family was a bit broken..."

Hmm, was my guess right? Please say what I want to hear, please.

"And my father left us..."

Ah, yes!

Silence fell over the room.

Damn, my mind didn't say that quietly, I actually said it out loud...