"Ah Mademoiselle Spookypie Strangedoll, do sit down."
I sat rather awkwardly in the musty smelling room, trying to avoid the piercing eyes of Doctor Ambiguit Deleter. He began speaking:
"So, I hear that your clients were not entirely happy with your work, upon which you spent hours and hours, after injecting your own funds, and for which you received no pay?
May I make a suggestion? Perhaps you should learn to communicate? If you had shared your progress instead of wandering in your own introverted mindspace you would have avoided the situation that you currently find yourself in. Oh yes, your work is of high quality but if no-one is willing to pay you for it and you are not able to put a baguette on the picnic table, so to speak, then one wonders what exactly is the point of your existence?"
I watched the dust particles drifting freely in the singular shaft of sunlight brave enough to enter the room, but I held my lips closed tight and awaited the inevitable continuation of Dr Deleter's tirade:
"I have inspected your dismal attempt at a tax return, at being a business - pah! What ridiculous self-serving fantasy.
You begin projects but do not finish them, never realising your true potential or making any tangible progress. You lose interest in the all-important decent slog to be bewitched by the twinkle of novelty and ensnared by the challenge of mastering new skills. Skills and learning are no good without a purpose young lady. What exactly is your purpose?
What, exactly, are you here for?"
I squirmed uncomfortably in the leather seat and my petticoats rustled in the still silent air.
"All of your creative endeavours amount to nothing.
Where is the solid evidence of what you have achieved?
Do you have any real proof of who you are?
Do you have anything to show for what you have learnt?
Your pathetic attempts at being a rock starlet are laughable - how on earth do you suppose that you can run a band if you cannot even entice a guitarist to play a few notes for you? Hmph - it seems to me that you can only keep band members interested in the project if you are dating them!"
I bit my tongue. Very hard.
"You are a drain on the state, a disappointment to your family and most especially to your poor parents. In order to avoid immediate deletion you must report to me daily."
Doctor Ambiguit Deleter lent forwards across his desk and fixed me with his cold unwavering gaze:
"You are a stubborn stain of individuality in a wonderfully homogeneous world of conforming and unquestioning wage slaves.
Frankly, my dear, you barely exist . . ."
Frankly, my dear, you barely exist . . ."
His words echoed in my mind like the whispers of a seashell:
you barely exist . . .
you barely exist . . .
you barely exist . . .
