"I think you´re masking your depression--what´s your house look like? Is it clean and put together?that´s a good indicator." » Y G H M®: the stories, yo
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“I think you´re masking your depression–what´s your house look like? Is it clean and put together?that´s a good indicator.”

“I think you´re masking your depression–what´s your house look like? Is it clean and put together?that´s a good indicator.”

“I´m glad you agreed to meet me for coffee-but I´m tired of this abuse”, the writer replies as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“I thought you should know”, I reply as I lean back, “also–I think that people know and they are being nice to you because of it.”

“I hide it well”, he replies as he takes another sip, “I mean… I don´t know what you´re talking about.”

“It´s written all over your face–your mask is on display, not you”, I reply as I pick up the taza, “people can tell quickly, if they know what to look for, that it is insincere–between the poses for the camera, it´s obvious that there´s a different person.”

“I don´t pose”, the writer replies as he smiles.

“See! That there is manipulation–emotional manipulation to get me on your side.”

“I don´t know what you are talking about!”, he replies as he stretches his arms out into the air.

“And there”, I say as I take a sip from the taza, “that´s a power pose–you are attempting to assert your dominance over me. You want me to think that you are supreme to me.”

“It´s all lies that you say”, he replies as he puts his hands to his side, “you see things as you are.”

“It´s an interesting point that you bring up, writer”, I reply as I take a sip from the taza, “but you are asking for more money and power posing, and denying it–I think that I know a manipulator when I see one.”

The waiter hurries over; he hands me a menu.

“Here are the options for food”, he says as he points to the right side at the list of sandwiches, “you seem agitated–I think that you need to eat something.”

He smiles; I roll my eyes; the writer leans back.

“I will not be controlled–I am in charge of myself.  I own me.”

“Yes–but you will be happier if you also own a ham sandwich with a side of curly-cut fries.”

“Excellent arguement”, I reply as I lean back, “but I am going to pass–I think that you are using my pain for your own benefit.  I can handle it.”

“As you wish”, he replies as he takes the menu away and turns around.

“See”, I reply as I turn my head to the waiter, “everyone wants to capitalize on your suffering without regard to you.  They are in it for themselves.  You don´t exist but as someone who eats; consumes what they sell.”

I pause; why did I agree to meet writer for coffee?

“I think that this was a bad idea”, I reply to the writer as I set the taza down and lean back, “I´m going to be heading out in a minute.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a digitaltarjeta; he puts it in the air; the waiter comes over.

“One thing”, he says to the waiter, “I want you to purchase a sandwich to go for him.”

He turns his head to me; I roll my eyes.

“Please don´t.”

“I insist”, the writer replies as the waiter takes the digitaltarjeta.

“There you go again–not respecting my wishes.  I have dinner waiting for me at home and don´t want to spoil my appetite.”

The writer gasps; I had no clue.

“I had no clue.”

“Every behavior is caused by something; there´s a reason that you don´t know so you need to trust me.  We all are doing what we do.”

“That doesn´t make sense.”

“Yeah”, I reply as I lean back, “maybe that was too over the top.”

Moments later, the waiter returns; he hands me the small bag with the sandwich; I hand it to the writer.

“For your girlfriend, or your cat, or someone.”

I stand up; I reach down and pick up my bookbag; I turn and take a step to leave the cafe.

“Thanks for the thought.”

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