Death, My Psychiatrist

I am not sure that I understand Death.

I am not sure that any of us do.

But then I enter.

His face reveals no hint of expression,

akin to how I feel regarding him.

But his soulless eyes look

clear through me, as if

I can see how I affect her.

It lurks in the dark premises

of her subconscious mind.

She believes me to be unfathomable.

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Then he utters his first words to me since entering:

“What brings you here?”

Who said anything brought me here?

There’s nothing wrong with me. Really. I’m…

Stage 1. Denial.

I’m not fine. I feel it –

“Feel who?”

Feel YOU, lurking at the

edges of my subconscious

yet you never surface high

enough for me to grasp

upon anything in reality.

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“And how does this problem make you feel?”

How do you think it makes me feel?

How do think I’m doing?

Is that even a question to be…?

Stage 2. Anger.

Asking myself the wrong question –

“What kind of questions?”

The ones that fuel my madness.

What if I was just wasn’t enough?

Like everything I have ever done

In my life is wrong and how I think

…is wrong. What if…I was wrong?

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“If you could wave a magic wand, what changes would you make?”

God, the possibilities.

Anything, you say?

Why, I would…

Stage 3. Bargaining.

I would pray. To God –

“Hm, what would you ask?”

I would ask Him to

help me to understand

where I fit. In the grand

scheme of things. I’d give

anything to feel alive

among the living.

______________________________________

“Overall, how would you describe your mood?”

Is there anything to describe?

My existence is a small infinitesimal speck among…

Stage 4. Depression.

The masses.

“The masses?”

Yes. I don’t matter,

at the end of the day.

They deserved more

than what I have.

“And what do you have?”

A chance at life.

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“What do you fear the most?”

I…I don’t know. If I had to… Fears are a tricky thing,

Don’t you think? It’s an illusion of the mind but…

Stage 5. Acceptance.

I live more in fear of rejection

than lowering someone six feet below.

“Do you know why?”

Because hearts may stop beating

but their memory lives on.

They are not ever gone.

The wind whistles with their laugh

and the sun shines with their passion.

The sea calls for them to play with us

and they send rain to hide my tears.

________________________________________

Until my reality ceases to exist,

do we ever really part?

I shake hands with Death.

She thanks me for the session.

Perhaps the next time we meet, we can skip all the stages.