The Patient's Painkiller is a Psycholologist

Chapter 1

Blank. As far as he knew most of his life had been that way.
Some of his brain was static, memories he was positive he had gotten rid of in order to continue on but then again there wasn't much to remember in his opinion. It was a cycle he lived through afterall, a good routine that kept himself in check and soothed him. The only thing that seemed to matter was the information he took in, he learnt and taught himself, anything that'd help him help others... anything that'd help him prevent anything drastic.

Everything in his life is colourless. Uninteresting unlike the books he reads or the fancy coffee instead of bitter ones he treats himself from time to time... a fitting life for an uninteresting man.

Brown messy hair, brown tired eyes that are pulled down by dark eyebags, an ongrowing stubble he promised himself he'd get rid of soon, plain baggy white t-shirt with baggy jeans. The kind of guy you'd pass by and not look twice, won't remember- not even used as one of those spare faces in dreams.

His room was tiny and tidy, unlived in. The only mess you'd find would be the scattered books on his desk or coffee table, opened on the page he'd been reading last, or a forgotten mug here and there.
His bed was made, shelf neat with books and the gifts displayed on such as 'thank you' cards from when he worked as a student counseller, his laptop closed with mouse put away, notebooks stacked and pens lined up perfectly.

His place was small and although he could get a place a bit bigger where the kitchen was actually separate from his room and living room, he had deemed it unnecessarily. Perhaps even too lonely...not that he'd let himself think too hard about it.

The TV was small and on mute as he left the fan on for some white noise that would block the sound of the waking people outside. Headphones in as he listened to a podcast and zoned out enough just to take in information as he watched the many pictures on the screen flash before the monotone voice from the podcast was interrupted by his phone alarm.

With a heavy sigh, he forced himself up from the old sofa where he'd been laying in with his favourite stuffed spider plush, replacing the stuffed toy upon his pillow on the bed neatly before heading to start his day.

He should've gotten some sleep, he thought to himself as he showered, washing his hair in deep thought. He should've used the time he had been awake to actually make himself presentable for once... he should've made use of time, made use of the luxury he has to be alive-

"Good morning" he practiced in the mirror for a moment, a smile upon his lips dropping in a blink of an eye "Good morning! ... Good morning-"

Hair brushed and decently dressed in pants, shirt and a sweater cardigan, he finally walked out with his bag strap in his hand as he locked the keys to his apartment, earphones in.

White. White walls, white corridors, white doors, white curtains, white uniforms, white smiles and many white lies.

"He'll be alright"

"Life gets better"

"There is nothing to worry"

How can they lie so easily to one another, to their patients? They needed guidance, help not some lie the rest of the world has been telling them... not something that proved against their reason for being present in such a place.

Scanning his ID  psychiatric hospital card at the entrance, he finally made his way in, fixing his slouching as  he darted for the coffee machine in one of the staff rooms.

"Huh...White cup" he noted to himself as he held the carton cup in hand, filling it up with the hot bean bitter juice he so despised so much.

Everything was a fuzz, foggy and distance until the very moment his dry lips touched the biting coffee that burnt down his gullet.