PSYCHE.

Psychologist

Scarlet
The Psychologist brought home a picture he drew of his mom, his self and his dog. All the school had was red crayons. With a beaming smile, The Psychologist showed his mother the crude drawing. Her eyes dilated. Her smile turned into disgust and her eyebrows turned into hatred. She grabbed The Psychologist by his neck. Never again, she breathed, never again will you bring that, that, devil, into my house. His eyes were wide and filled with fear. She burned the picture, his mom and his dog going up in flames.

Prussian blue
The Psychologist looked outside. The sky was blue. His teacher told him to come back from time-out. He reluctantly pulled away from the window. What’s wrong with you? she silently muttered to herself.

Giving tree green
She was sitting outside in the grass, crying. The Psychologist didn’t understand why she was crying. He went over to inquire about her condition, and when he asked about it she smacked him. He didn’t understand. So he sat in the grass beside her and cried.

Timberwolf/Old man granite gray
He got into his father’s van. It was one of the few days that he got to see him, and they had arrived at Niagara Falls. He was excited. He opened the door and it hit the car beside him. The car now held a big gray streak. His father was infuriated. He punched The Psychologist in the face once, twice, three times, and screamed profanities at his innocent child. The Psychologist cried. He didn’t understand why his father was doing this, and so he cried.

Torch red
His house burned down. He stared at it with tears in his eyes. At his aunt's house he learned that neither his mom nor his dog survived.


Wild blue
The Psychologist looked outside. The sky was blue. He was muttering to himself. The principal called him into her office, What's wrong with you? She breathed.

Heavy black
He held the gun, shaking. The voices urged him on. Do it, they chanted. Do it, do it, do it. Another voice intruded his head. Don’t, please don’t kill me. The sleeping man was talking to him. Do it, No, don’t! Do it! No, don’t! Do it now! No! No please, have mercy! With a hideous scream he shot himself in the head.




Alizarin and electric indigo
He awoke in the hospital. You just barely missed, son. You’re lucky. But you’re brain is severely damaged, and unfortunately you’ll most likely be in a wheelchair the rest of your life.

Outer space and manatee
The Psychologist was comfortable in the patent leather burgundy chair. He looked around in amazement at all the certificates of completion, all the books and unnecessary curios. He looked at the psychologist’s face, at his warm smile, his round-rimmed wire framed glasses and his thinning hair and smiled. He felt warm. It felt like home. The psychologist told him they were going to play a game. He held up a picture with confused blots of black and white. Boy, he said, what do you see? The Psychologist answered, Love.

Corn
She was happy, sitting in the grass under the yellow leaves. He asked her why she was happy. She kissed him. He didn’t understand why she did, but now he was happy too.

Royal purple and canary, cloudy sky
He wheeled across the stage, beaming. He took his diploma and stood on the stage for a moment, holding up the stream of new graduates. His eyes glazed over as he began to remember all the things inhibiting him from this moment. Then he began to remember his constant question, “why?” The audience was confused when his face turned gloomy.

Black and white
He looked around pensively at all the certificates on the wall. His shelf had collected clutter, and he smiled at it. The Psychologist’s door opened, and in came a small youth. Good afternoon, boy said the psychologist. Have a seat. The boy sat in the burgundy chair and his face lit up. He looked at The Psychologist wearily, moving his eyes back and forth, blushing. The Psychologist smiles. It’s okay, son. I’m here for you. And it was like all the years of torment came back to him in the little boy’s grimace. And after the child was done, all he had to say was, “why?”

Heart red
At work, The Psychologist looked on his desk. There was a picture of him, with his wispy brown hair, his big wire-rimmed glasses and his wheelchair. One of his patients was next to him, a tiny stick figure. They were both smiling. They’re lips were red. So was the sun, so was the grass, so was he. And The Psychologist cried.