“I’m the sad man, sadness sticks to me like glue. Without the sadness I have no character, character is what differentiates me from the other people.”
“Yes, I agree but at times you’re sad for multiple reasons. I want to know.”
The sad man took off his rainbow parka and tore off the mustache from the top of his lip. Blood began to trickle down and soak his lips red. “Everyone who once was in my life isn’t anymore. They all live successful lives with their excess cash, handsome physiques and daily lamentations on their life loves whom they themselves conquered in a snap of their fingers. They go on into their higher educations while I struggle to make the grade in remedial Math. My life has no meaning. I hear of their exploits daily, every morning, making my life seem like shit.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. Of course there’s always making your own meaning in life.”
“What about the others?” replied Mr. Sad Man as he began to tear off pieces of his black shaggy hair.
The Envisioner continued dodging the slow moving pieces of rock debris floating in the air, “Forget about them, if they were your friends then they would have gotten you off your feet, inspired you, at least talked to you. If they don’t need you, you don’t need them.”
“I don’t need them?” asked Mr. Sad Man amazed.
“You don’t need them. You may be a sad man, but you are The Sad Man, the original sad man. You are a Sad Man who shouldn’t feel sad about being alone because you have yourself to worry about.”
Mr. Sad Man’s face and body begins to move and ripple like liquid, he then splits up into two separate people. The first man on the left was a refugee, he smiled and showed his snow white teeth and his nicely tailored pink suit. The man on the right was a depressed, hairy and dark depressed man in tattered clothes, all black & dirty.
The refugee laughed and faded into blue mist while the other sat on the floor, not caring for the debris hitting his head and began to drink out of his bottle of beer.
“Thanks for getting rid of that guy. Damn refugees think they can reside in me. S‘not my fault their happy lives turned to shit. If they‘re sad, they should be sad as themselves than use me to be sad for them.” Mumbled The Sad Man.
“Anytime.” replied The Envisioner.
The Sad Man rummaged into his pocket for a dollar bill, until The Envisioner stopped him. “It’s free of charge. My services involving the cosmos or the inner workings of the human mind are free. Save that cash for more booze, rummy.”
The Sad Man pulled his hand out of his pocket and put it around his bottle of beer. “Aye Aye Captain.”
Just as it was meant to be, The Envisioner left the Sad Man to drown in his depression, the way it’s always meant to be.