Visuals; pt. 1.

Let me take you somewhere real quick...

There's a chaise lounge couch in the middle of the room. Beige creamy soft leather. Puffy. Comfortable as fuck. Laying on my back.. I dangle my feet over the arm rest, glancing at my toes as they wiggle. Wheres my chauffeur, by Essie glad I chose this color. Feeling real greekish.. They laid on these same couches with their togas, I have a toga on too.. except today we call them maxi dresses.

"Idk" — what don't you know?
"That's the thing, I don't know"

as I crush up the weed, preparing to break down my issues. I glance around the room as I pass her the weed. The library in the corner filled with the most interesting books ever if you get close enough.. Next to her desk that she barely sits at. "Only for show" she says.. Her mini fridge underneath it stocked with munchies..water, drinks, heavy stuff and the non alcoholic. The two large windows behind her, always behind her.. Giving her an angelic or godly glow. maybe she does this purposely, I think. Drapes heavy.. Great fabric, goes great with the decor. Her office, or sanctuary as we like to call it is so huge, yet we stay in the middle of the room. "Can't fuck with the zen in here, must be cente(red) at all times" she says..

I watch her roll, she has a customized room tray cart, wheels for extra convenience..
"I don't know how I feel" — yes you do. You just don't know how to interpret them.
Fuck. She has this way of making things seem simpler than I processed, so simple.. I feel dumb. I know those aren't her intentions.
We've had this conversation before.
She lights the blunt.
She asks me a few vague questions that by now I know aren't so vague, always something else she's really asking. But I don't mind. I know this works for the better. I answer. Honestly. She likes that.

She's very good at making you feel like you can say no wrong.

She passes the blunt. I inhale, while she dissects what I've given her.. When I exhale, I ask her.. You ever felt this way? I always ask that. I fell off my bike at 7 I cried and it stung, I was hurt, sad.. You ever felt that? Stupid shit like that.. But she answers. Whether she has or hasn't. She's not so open, "it's not about me, we're here for you" but she definitely shares pieces of her here and there, I've been piecing her together like a mental scrapbook with all the information she gives me .. She has no clue, or does she? She's relatable, I tell you that much. Any time we're stuck at a road block (what we call being at an emotional red light) she pulls out a story from the treasure chest of her soul and it hits home. Every fucking time.

I stare at her walls, a few pictures, some quotes clearly she holds dear to her heart. A bunch of framed paperwork that all say the same thing, she's more than qualified.

"Idk if anything will ever be enough" — that's normal. We all want more.
"Yeah? You ever felt that way?" — felt? Girl I feel it everyday.. I wake up wanting more. "Really? You're so accomplished.. What more could you want?" — there's always more. It's ultimately on you to decide when enough is enough.

There she go again avoiding certain questions that would shift the focus on her. I respect it though.. After all this isn't an interview.

This is an overview, as she likes to call it.
Politicking on life overviews with all her undertone questions and provocative statements. I think she likes to provoke me, into finishing her sentences. She knows I know, she just like to bring it out of me.. She knows I won't bring it out myself.

I tell her I feel crazy, again. "Oh what is crazy? What is normal" as she twirls in her throne (she has a gold dusted black leather office chair).. and inhales pure potent. I wish we were close enough to share weed connects. She doesn't even allow us to bring weed, she supplies it. Roll up, beverages, finger foods. Her dream sanctuary, she always said, "if I had a place like this to come to when I couldn't figure it all out.. Shit."
She exhales.

Whenever she ends a sentence with shit.. I always wonder what shit she's talking about. Always wonder what she's been through, how she got here.. How she remained sane through it all without someone like her to help her? Or did she have someone like her by her side before she was, who she is now? I wonder.

She knows me. She knows where I come from, where I'm at.. Where I wanna go. She's watched, watching me grow. Guiding light in the tunnel of darkness the world casts on some of us. I look up at her. I'm high. She's become god (the sun really shining, her glow today is impeccable). She's high too, I can always tell in her eyes and speech. She really gets down in your soul when she's high. It's really amazing.

The blunt is out. But the conversation still going.. We discuss what's going on, I ask her advice on guys.. She always laugh but doesn't hesitate to give me a pointer or two. I ask her how is everything on her end, as usual.. I feel it's in utter vain to speak to someone and never ask how are they doing. She tells me everything is good.. She's in a happy place and she's there to stay. And of course that's all she said. My reply was "when I get there can I sleep on your couch?" We laugh, —your happy place will give you your own couch, you won't need mine.

Funny, I don't need her couch.. But I need her. I tried not seeing her for a while you know, to see if she really was worth the money being spent for her services.. To see if I'm "better" to see if I even need to speak to her... I went a few months without checking in, I never felt so lost. Exactly like running away from home and it's raining and gloomy everyday you're a runaway.. I went back.

She's so different. I can literally speak on anything and leave with an elevated version of what I brought to her. "It's not putting it on a pedestal, it's bringing it up to the light." — like any bill $20 and higher I reply. "See you do get it, idk why you play so dumb, you might be smarter than me" I laugh, she looks serious but that's one of her funniest jokes to me.

We zone in and out of conversation to appreciate what songs play on her iPod dock, she loves music just as much as I do. We discuss music and the generations molded by it, we eat brownies (the special kind), she makes her infamous lemonade twister and digs deeper into my mind.. And as soon as I'm damn near faded the bell goes off.

"See you soon" — you know where to find me. Take care. Always a pleasure.

"Ditto"