Okay, this is the story I wrote! It's a bit long, because it's easier for me to develop the plot that way and also because I had difficulty trying to introduce the main character and make him a minimum relatable. I tried to make it so people would have a bit of compassion for him, but not too much, I also want people to be jealous and/or judgeful towards him. And I think... no, I'm pretty sure I messed it up, so, sorry about that.
The title is "I felt that".
It was on a sunny Monday morning that everything started going wrong. Mark’s girlfriend left him. One of his banks burned down. His pet dog Hope died.
As his hopes and dreams cracked, shattered, and broke in front of his eyes, his motivation and serenity hit rock bottom. Mark was left as an empty shell, he was the shadow of himself. Things kept getting worse and refused to get fixed, and his happiness did the same. It felt as though his heart was being squished in his chest, and his shoulders felt much heavier than usual. Every day, when he woke up in his king sized bed, he just felt like going back to sleep. He lost a lot of friends because his attitude became terrible.
He had everything, and the transition from that to his current position was the most depressing thing he had ever experienced. He still had two banks and his mansion with all his possessions, including his private helicopter, his yacht, his plane, his pool… But instead of focusing on what he had, he focused on what he had lost. Nobody felt bad for him at all because of that, but he didn't get the message. He used that as another excuse to be sad. He stayed home and almost never got out.
After a few weeks of being a hermit and a rude old man, Mark got a call from one of his childhood friends. At first, he thought “I don’t feel like picking up, so I won’t”, but when he looked and saw the shining name show up on his phone’s screen, he sighed and reached his hand towards the device.
“Hello Leo.” He said simply, waiting for the other person to answer.
“Hey.” Was all he got. A short, slightly awkward silence ensued.
“What d’you want?” Mark insisted, feeling annoyed at the time Leo took to talk.
“Do you remember that you used to have a psychologist back when we were in school?” He said after a few seconds. Mark didn’t like that statement.He didn't like being reminded of his therapist. He took it as an insult. He felt his hand itching to hang up, he felt his lips burning to tell his friend to shut up, but he didn’t do either of those things.
“Continue…” He answered instead.
“Maybe you could give him a call, see if he’d accept to talk with you again. I’ve noticed you started acting the same as in school, and it makes me feel terrible to not be able to do anything. I just thought maybe that would help, it did before.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Why not?”
“You know why.” Mark hung up after that.
A few days passed, and Mark kept thinking about what Leo had told him. His hand hovered over his phone, hesitating. Should he call his old therapist? He scowled. “No. I don’t have a problem.” he thought, retracting his hand angrily, almost as if he had been physically burned.
But, as time passed, he noticed he did have a problem. Hours, days, even weeks went by, and Mark felt like he was in a constant trance, barely registering the things happening around him. He was still able to operate his banks, but it was getting more and more difficult to do things and function properly. It was exactly the same as what had happened years ago in school. So he made his decision. He called the psychologist.
Mark got an appointment easily due to his status in society and the fact that he had already used the services of the therapist. The day after his call, he already had an appointment.
It was on a rainy Tuesday morning that everything started going better. Seeing his old therapist lifted Mark’s spirits. He knew the man was competent, and he decided to put his trust in him once again, even if he hated to admit that he needed help. The relaxing sounds of the rain falling on the windows helped soothe Mark’s nerves, and helped him focus on the words he had to tell the person sitting in front of him patiently.
As he talked with his therapist, Mark felt at peace for the first time in weeks. For every complaint he gave, his psychologist had three good things to say. Mark talked for hours with his old therapist and left feeling light as a feather, nothing on his mind had stayed to bother him. It felt refreshing to go out of the house after so long. It was wonderful to talk to someone that stood in front of him, and not on the other side of a phone.
On his way home, Mark thought: “I’m so lucky.” Right after that, he tripped and fell in a puddle. He laughed at the irony, and didn’t let it ruin his good mood.
