Scene 1:
a woman, trying to hold back tears as she says goodbye. She quickly collects her things – cellphone, pen, paper, contents that spilled when she accidentally knocked it to the side. “This is embarrassing”, she says, as she tried so hard to hide and wipe her tears at the same time. “Don’t be”, he says, his face in her hazy vision, that of a solemn, sorry expression. He told her she will be able to get past this. He produces papers- plans, directions, she had no idea as she hastily puts them all in her purse. “Goodbye, thank you for everything”. She wanted to hug him, but she didn’t trust herself – I might break down, she thinks to herself. And so she turns her back, opens the door, at the same time fumbling with her keys. She hurriedly runs to her car, turns the ignition on. Realizes he can see her from the window, she backs out and drives off.
Scene 2:
It was only after she turned on the next street did she let her tears fall away. Sobs, wails, breaks down, big fat ugly tears. The sound so foreign she didn’t think it was coming from her. And she couldn’t stop it. How could he? He knows the last one left her too. He could have been more gentle instead of just ripping the band aid off.
She drives, crying and driving in rush hour traffic. Not really caring if somebody sees her. Her whole body quakes as she sobs – continuously, endlessly.
Scenes from a movie? No, this is real life – the emotions are real. The pain is felt deep to the core.
This was me. Today, when my psychiatrist told me he is leaving.
I love going to the movies – seeing these images that tugs at your heart strings and you feel bad for the actors in the movie, for all the pain they are going through. Certain scenes, events, resonates with you and you feel sympathetic.
In this, I am the actor. Except —
I was not acting.
I feel like someone in my life, in my world – not the movie world, died.
And I am left to pick up the pieces.