Thread: Broken Dreams {Father Figure & AnnaBeth Belle}

Everyone had something wrong with them. That was the truth and never let anyone tell you differently, though it hardly mattered if they bothered to do so. People, he had often found, were intractable animals that were stuck into their ruts and were hardly ever going to find their way out of them. It was something you could never convince them of, that was the problem in the end, that the human animal had to ensure it's own mental safety by providing a rationale for it's insanity. It was a defense mechanism, some psychological equivalent of survival of the fittest, and as it served no reasonable purpose to make yourself feel that you were wrong...you always tried to justify you were right. You could take addicts, murderers, abusers, manic depressives, and pedophiles and once you sorted through all the bullshit that they espoused they inevitably blamed something outside of their control for the actions that they engaged in. They always shirked the responsibility, passed the buck, and rationalized that it could be no other way. This man was a cynic, but he was a strange kind of cynic, he was the kind that actually felt a human being could grow...truly grow, but it was such a rarity as to be unnoticeable by most of society. People always pointed towards the soaring heights that the human condition could achieve, but that was not where growth occurred for a person. No, growth occurred down in the chasm...where someone had fallen so deeply that it shattered them, where someone had finally hit rock bottom that their only choice was to change or to continue the way they were. That was where you found the people where you could make a difference in their lives. It was those people that you stared at and politely asked if the pain of remaining the same outweighed the pain of change...and it was only when it did, only when remaining in the cycle of their lives was so unbearable that they could break free and become something magnificent. Something truly human. The Philosophy of Dr. Robert Ingram. The name had come with the accolades some might not have expected from a person willing to see private clientele, and yet this man had taken what would have been considered an award winning career at the top of his field and decided that he would directly reach out to others. From all rumors it seemed he was picky, that he was quite choosy about who he decided was going to receive his attention, and whatever about Noel that had stood out was perhaps something she herself did not know...yet he had contacted her and the appointment had been arranged. Perhaps it had been the job choice she had taken, perhaps it had been the strange mental acumen she held, or perhaps it had been the fact that she was obviously suffering because of both her choice and her world view. He was not about to second guess himself when he had looked at her file, he merely had given it a once over and realized that this person might be someone he could help. The next time she opened her eyes he was sitting across from her in one of the chairs, his eyes thoughtful as they stared at her. Whatever she had written down he would review later, it was all make work really, and for now he just wanted that opening dialogue with her. Those eyes were sharp, yet the man that they belonged too hardly seemed to be the owner of them. No, this man seemed surprisingly mundane. Slightly below six feet in height, broad shouldered and heavy set, the gentleman in question was every bit the proper professional middle class man. He might as well have screamed conservative Christian from every inch of him. He was dressed in business casual, one leg crossed over the other, and he gave a small smile of his full lips as he saw her finally realize he was there and he spoke with directness...there was nothing hinting at the typical bullshit counseling a person expected to receive. Noel, I'm Dr. Ingram. I would say I was here to help you, but I can't...only you can help you. I'm just here to listen as you figure that out. So...let's just start simply, why were you sent here and why do you think you were sent here ?