✓ | frozen

12. sex therapy

Have you ever heard someone laugh before?

The sound erupts gracefully from their soul and ravages the impression of any sign of sadness—yet it hurts dangerously to recognize the tears plunging silently underneath a facade. An ocean of tears is equivalent to laughter echoing in a room full of nothingness; it has the same effect as surrendering to the guilt of knowing you'd never fully be happy—no matter how hard you tried. And for Laurel Andrews, he mourned people who hadn't touched the grave or even witnessed the face of death itself—he realized that the closest ones to him turned their backs faster than a stranger and betrayed his trust.

Laurel didn't completely recover from the pain of his brother laughing until he saw waterfalls descending from every crease of his sanity. Was Laurel insane for allowing him to produce such a sweet melody as he blended his happiness with Erasmus' melancholy? Thus, his selfishness revolved around not caring about others' feelings so he'd be carefree—living a struggle-less lifestyle that provided him with material gains. Laurel assumed that money brought him everything life could offer and possibly restore his relationship with his family—but jealousy and bitterness showered their perception of a successful man.

Broken in numerous ways—Laurel wallowed throughout his masquerade phase only to discover that everyone held a mask to protect their identity as they remained conservative in their reputation. He had the gift of glimpsing beyond the perimeter and scanning the depths of their scars without feeding his intrusion. Shamelessly, he grew famished for more—desperately wanting to figure out why a person would desire to cover the darkest parts of themselves to almost appear perfect.

Why was it hard to disclose his deepest secrets without feeling judged?

He couldn't tell you—

Pain is inevitable, and it's the reason for our growth as a society—despite its tendencies, it transforms the caterpillar into a butterfly, bestowing them with humility. Every moment, hour, minute, and second—you die and rebirth into a better version of yourself. As a father, Laurel's children taught him to love himself while caring for someone else; they've shown him how to cry, laugh, play, and be free. The innocence of a child determines exposure to corruption. If you corrupt something or someone—you'd destroy their sense of self-worth.

And he was that child—

But instead of running away, Laurel indulged in the secrecy—expected to be his parents' therapists as he mindlessly drowned in agony. Trapped in every argument, he bathed in the rhythmic waves of despondence. Sorrowfully, he nodded his head into an ignorant bliss, not being cautious enough to permit his darkness and devour the shell of a man. Laurel never experienced boyhood—deemed wise beyond his years and mature for his age—it put him in a category many haven't reached. Although—it gave him an advantage, the thought of knowing more than you're supposed to—bothered him.

He didn't want to know more—

Knowing too much can kill you, but knowing too little can lead one to walk oblivious in the nighttime—chaperoned by curiosity for earthly pleasures. A cat could receive satisfaction for its inquisitive nature—but down the line, its neediness for knowledge spiraled out of control and slaughtered the probabilities of uncovering the incomprehensible meaning of vitality. Discomfort pushed Laurel to move above physical boundaries and concentrate on the psychological side of situations.

Being a therapist practically forced him to solve real-world problems and deliver solutions to his patients—yet, even when Laurel didn't have the answers, the silence nearly filled the cracks in his loneliness. Laurel apprehended the traumatic incidents his patients suffered, and being there for someone meant giving them all of his time—and him. They had someone to run to when everything seemingly scattered in their lives—but no one ever came to his rescue. Every hero births a tragic tale—managing to save everyone except themselves while descending into the arms of death.