Closet Crazy

*** Fictional Story***

Tick… Tick… Tick… Tick.

Only about thirty more ticks to go from my authentic grandfather clock that sits gallantly in the corner before I can slowly end this session.

Everyday I sit in this blue chair, with my freshly ironed dry cleaned clothes, polished loafers, and perfectly combed hair. I face my client while holding my notepad and pen and jot down anything I feel like I should be jotting down. It’s more for show actually. I scribble down things like their posture, words or phrases I notice them subconsciously using, ticks they may have, even when they’re lying to me. I always know when they’re lying to me. When you’ve studied people for as long as I have, it becomes second nature to spot a lie.

Most of my clients are good people. Their lives are usually quite boring which leads them to deal with their boring lives in a destructive manner. Each case different in the manner they go about getting rid of the monotony their lives have become. All similarly ending in destruction. This is why they come looking for me.

I listen to their pitiful stories. All complain, some of them while yelling. Others spend their entire session crying out without even saying an understandable word. Most of the time I just sit there and listen. I listen without having to really listen to them. During most of my sessions my brain runs on complete autopilot. I tune into the “important” parts and tune out the fillers with important thoughts of my own.

Today has been a busier day than usual. I started off my morning with a 22 year old girl who has sexual fantasies of being with an older man, a man who much resembles to that of her father. That session was followed by a husband who’s wife recently uncovered his severe gambling and cocaine addiction and gave the the ultimatum to seek help or leave. After him followed a 5th grade English teacher who absolutely hated his job and who’s never experienced a romantic relationship in his entire life. He’s 53 years old and since our last session has secretly begun diving into the depths of the deep dark web in search of deep dark fantasies. Their issues are typical for their individual circumstances. With each case I end our sessions with prescribing them drugs to help them “cope” with their issues but to be honest, they were all much more sane before they started to come to see me. Before the drugs.

Western medicine has never been my thing. When I say “my thing” I mean you will never catch me taking any type of Western medication. Garbage is the word that comes to mind when thinking about man made medicine. I am more of a meditation and homeopathic remedies man myself, yet I cannot deny the amount of money one can make by pumping patients with garbage. When done right, one can keep sick people sick, and make a killing doing so. No pun intended. So I prescribe them this, then I’ll mix it up and tell them to take that. Never once do they debate the advice given to them. As long as I listen and prescribe, that’s all they care about. I give them exactly what they want. I dope them up to help them better deal with the harsh realities of life. Realities that for the most part were self inflicted. They never question the possible side effects of what has been prescribed to them neither the long term nor short. They don’t ever question the motives one may have when prescribing such garbage, neither big nor small. No explanations are ever needed. Just a piece of paper with a solution to a symptom and a signature and off they go.

I run a very small and very private practice so there is really no one I have to answer to other than the board. Not once have I ever had to answer to the board. In fact, in order for a patient to be even seen by me you first have to be referred by someone on the “inside”, then verified by me personally. This means full background check. I look into their old medical files, their criminal record if they have one, and dive deep into their most personal affairs. Finding out a patient’s deep and darkest secrets is key to having complete dominance over them. I makes it easier to keep them eating out of your hand.

Funny, I wonder how quickly things would change if any one of my clients found out the truth of the deep dark secret I, myself, hide. A lie that stares them in the face session after session. A sick truth that patients are too blinded by their own issues to see. I thrive over that advantage I have over them. The advantage of being able to see what lies before me because unlike them, I have no issues of my own to deal with. My issues aren’t “issues” instead they are a beautiful way of life.

I am not here to help my patients. I am not here to make them feel better.  To keep my small practice small but yet thriving I make sure to keep the minds of my patients sick. I keep them coming back for more. Their repeat illness allows for my small business to make money. A visibly thriving practice and a polished look  helps disguise the truth that lies within my mind, soul, and basement. How else would I keep my secret a secret? A handsome family man, who is financially well off, and never tires to try to “better” society through is profession. There is no better cover than that.

“It amazes me how day after day you deal with the crazies, only to try to better their lives and make the world an easier place to live in. For them and us. That’s so honorable of you…” is what friends and family say.  I can only imagine the look on their faces if I told them the truth. That no, I could care less about bettering humanity. The simple truth was that dealing with the “crazies” made me appear to be normal.

I wrap up the second half of my day with two more appointments. I close up shop as the sun begins to set, and head straight home to my wife. I find her in the kitchen, happily awaiting my arrival, plating my homemade dinner that was still nice and warm.

Tonight our daughter is working her part-time shift at the mall and won’t be home for hours. I choose to dedicate this time to my wife because meeting her needs keeps her off my back.  “Happy wife, Happy life” isn’t that how the saying goes? So I ask her about her day and although I could give a shit about what this stay at home housewife has done with it, I pretend to listen. Again, mind on autopilot. Throughout our one way conversation, I make sure to interrupt her and compliment her on her cooking skills, calling her below average meal, delectable. With a final wipe of my napkin, I stare her deep into her eyes, and tell her how ravishing she looks, even after a long day like she’s had today. I then reach across the table and kiss her almost animalistically and with one quick swoop, I pick her up and take her to the bedroom where I make love to her passionately. I make sure she is exhaustedly pleased, and soon enough we both are. After much unwanted pillow talk, I get up and make her a nice cup of her favorite bedtime tea. Only  after she drinks the cup in its entirety, and her snores begin to fill the air around me, am I free to become the rawest version of myself.

I wait a few beats before I make my way out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind me. I don’t worry about my wife waking up. Not after grinding up three melatonin pills and slipping them into her already potent tea. Guiltlessly I make my way through our rustically decorated home, and shut off all the lights, only leaving the driveway light and hallway light on. A guide for when my daughter arrives. With the house dark and quiet my daughter never assumes I’m still awake. She believes I am in the room with her beloved mother, gaily spooning each other until morning. She has no idea that night time is my time.

I make my way past the kitchen and towards the door that leads down into the basement. I open it and instantly am hit with the cold that creeps up from the darkness below. I quickly find myself reaching into my pocket for my penlight. I descend the stairs quickly and point the light towards the bookcase that is randomly placed against the wall. As I reach the bookcase, I place the penlight back into my pocket. I push the heavy bookcase to the side and lift the old, dusty rug it stood on, exposing the trap door that it hid beneath it. Just simply seeing the trap door and knowing the secret that it held inside made my heart race and my dick hard.

With a strong tug I lift the trap door and once I find the proper footing on the thin iron steps, I allow for the door to come back down, lowering it gently back into place. I am again engulfed by darkness. It swallows me whole, heightening all of my senses, including that of smell. I have grown accustomed to the musky smell that this place gives off. The smell is now one that soothes me. It makes me feel at home. I slowly climb down the stairs waiting for my foot to hit the ground and once it does, I take my penlight from my pocket and point it towards the door that stands at the very end of the hall. I quickly cut down the hall, anticipation rising deep within my chest, reaching the door in seconds. I grab the door knob and twist to open. No lock needs to be undone for although what lies on the other side of this door is locked in, the side I stand on is always free, allowing me to come and go without having to fumble with a lock and key.

I open the door slowly and as I step in, I admire what lies in front of me…..

 

At This Point…

I’m 29 years old. I’ll be 30 in January.

I have yet to graduate college, although I am a little more than halfway done.

I do not own my own home yet.

I am not married. I don’t even have a boyfriend.

I have no kids (although I came close once).

I have no REAL responsibilities other than enjoying life daily as much as I possibly can.

For the most part, I live a good life. I find it crazy when society and its “norms” want to disrupt that for me.

I get this at least once a week:

“So do you have any children??” (Insert “No” here…) “Oh honey, you’re missing out on the glories of having children!! It is so rewarding!” They say to me. For some maybe. For me? I’m going to be honest and go as far as saying that I would find having kids, at this point in my life, kind of a burden. I can already hear all the gasps and comments from my readers now, “A burden? How could she!?” and would I be thinking differently if I already had a few of my own? Of course! No loving parent would ever call their child a burden, but coming from someone who has no children in a world that is constantly multiplying around her, I find it to be true.

Yesterday as I sat at a local bar enjoying a proper Gin and Tonic and an order of coconut shrimp, while working on my latest short story, I couldn’t help but observe a family that had just sat a few tables ahead of me. Mom, Dad, and four kids. The parents were about my age. The kids were maybe a year or two apart, the youngest not able to walk yet. They rolled in with strollers, diaper bags, sweaters, bottles, toys, everything a family with 4 children would need for an easier outing. As the afternoon crept on, I noticed that the parents had no real interaction with one another other than what they HAD to say to each other in regards to the kids. I couldn’t help but wonder what they used to be like with one another before the children came along. As a waitress I often see this and think the same thing. I always wonder what families were like before the children happened.

It’s not always that I see a disconnect between couples. It’s random but once in a blue I do see tightly knit families that give off that moment of inspiration… but that moment is short lived when I hear or see a screaming child at another table. Almost like life is snapping me back into reality.

I had a friend tell me once, “Since a kid all I ever wanted was to be a mom. And now I am one and sometimes I feel like, “what have I done?” No one tells you about the metamorphosis your body will go through after having a child. No one tells you how scary it can be when the realization sets in that you’re raising a little human and molding them to someday be a productive member of society. No one tells you how frustrating a child can be, because even if you are a good parent, it’s not just nurture it is also nature that plays apart in raising them.  A parent sacrifices a lot. You can’t think about what you want to eat, or what you want to buy, or where it is that you want to travel to next. All you do is think about them. You as an individual is almost non-existent.” Her son is 8. I can’t imagine how she will be feeling once he hits those teenage years.

Like i said before, I get it often, “So, when are you having your little ones? Times ticking you know!” I reply with a shrug and a usual, “Not anytime soon.” Coming from complete strangers I find those questions and comments annoying and intrusive.

Yes, having children can be a blessing and very rewarding but, you don’t miss what you’ve never had. At this point in my life I do not want children. To have kids right now would be almost selfish of me. There is too much that I need to accomplish first, there are many things I need to get out of my system first, before I ever think about bringing a life into this world. I sometimes hear about parents resenting their children for not allowing them to be able to finish much of what they started or have the ability to live out the dreams they once envisioned. I don’t want to be that. I hear about parents imposing much of what they wanted to do in life onto their kids saying, “I want them to do what I could never get to do,” and most often than not, these kids would rather be living out their own dreams, living out their own lives. If I don’t do what I need to do for me now, how could I possibly be a good parent later? How could I possibly devote all of my passion, love, and energy into my mini me, while also working on obtaining a good career, finding a good home, establishing a strong relationship with my better half? Many would argue, “Well people do it everyday! No one is ever fully ready to have kids but ey, they manage.” Well let me just say, I don’t want to simply manage my way through life, especially if I don’t have to. All those people who are juggling kids while also finishing up an education, or intensely focusing on their career, or trying to work on their marriage, they are struggling. I’ve got enough struggles going on at the moment, no need to add a child into the mix. I am extremely content with playing with my nieces and nephews, or my friend’s children. I am happy that at the end of my visit I can simply walk away. I join in on the fun and once the fun is over I leave.

I give good parents a lot of praise because in reality they are doing something that I simply cannot. Kudos for contributing to society in a unique and special way. Because of you humanity continues.

At this point, I am happy because  I get to contribute to life in a different way. I am living my life at my own speed, doing the things I want to do, while always making sure I don’t hurt others along the way. In my opinion, that, in essence, should be society’s  “norm”.