• Last Days of Sanity
    By J.L.T



    Chapter #1
    Most Interesting Person

    Perhaps the most interesting person I have ever met is not a crazed serial killer who never failed to remove the third toe from the left of her victim’s right foot

    Facts about Ramona
    1) she a serial killer
    2) she’s a great conversationalist
    3) SHE’S INSANE


    or an owl like little man who always punched himself senseless whenever he heard the word ‘zyxt’

    A definition
    1) Zyxt-another word for sixth
    2) Used surprisingly often on everyday speech


    No, perhaps the most interesting person I have ever met is nothing more than a slightly gothic, very polite, thirteen-year-old girl (not that anything is wrong with being a thirteen year old girl).
    As is the law for those of my profession, I cannot reveal the name of my clients or anything we discuss

    Exception to the law
    1) Information can and will be
    revealed if the client means to
    harm themselves or another being.



    without written permission of the client. In this particular case, I was given permission, actually encouraged to evince the conversations I and my client shared during our sessions, to the world. However, she did request that her name remain a secret so we shall call her ‘Jay’ for the purpose of this telling. Jay is a name she once told me that she wished could replace he one given to her at birth. I agreed to help Jay tell her story to those in need of it, and now I will relate it to you. Every last suicidal thought, tear, and boy crush.
    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    I knew from the first day I met Jay that this was a girl who had seen, knew, and experienced too much of the world for one so young. Although at first glance, I will admit she appeared fairly normal to me.

    Jay’s Appearance
    *faded blue jeans
    *white tank top
    *black flannel over shirt hanging open
    *worn high top converse
    *blue oval glasses
    *wheat-colored hair pushed behind her ears


    She seemed polite enough. She even shook my hand. I mean, how many teenage girls would willingly shake the hand of a wrinkled forty-eight year old man willingly?

    I answer myself
    *Not very many


    All of my clients have a good reason for coming to see me. I didn’t see Jay’s until I looked into her eyes.
    Jay’s eyes were of a deep dusk blue tinged with sea green lined with long thick eyelashes. Beautiful, and sad. Oh so sad. In her eyes I saw a story longing to be told. A story of anger and betrayal. Of promises broken and of love lost. In her eyes I saw words unsaid, that should have been spoken. And I saw a spark, just a spark of pure adolescent determination. A spark that I would later learn to have been the only thing keeping her alive for the past five years of her life. Or as she would put it, the past five years of living in Hell.