The white wall

1

“You are not of this world!” the mother exclaimed after what had happened today. Psyche again plunged into a soul blizzard and felt all the suffering that brings her everything what is outside of her consciousness. She closed the door of her room and decided to enter the dream world as soon as possible. Her room was simple and bright, with white walls that gave no hint of heroes or idols in her life. And to make it easier to sleep, she always opened the window.

Purity. Freshness. Simplicity. That's all she accepted and loved. But, unfortunately, all her efforts to bring a little piece of light to this world were not always crowned with success. It is not inherent in her to pass from one state of mind to another in the blink of an eye. She believed that such a quality in a person as flexibility, especially in such cases, is equivalent to such qualities as hypocrisy and spinelessness.

She couldn't sleep, and as usual, she was thinking and reflexing for a long time. And it seemed to her that everything was ephemeral, except for her eternal reflections, which brought her both the slightest notes of self-knowledge and a flurry of mental agony. And as always, she remembered the most vivid moments of the past day. Namely, the same poor dialogue with the successor of the mundane and consumer world, where people worship their animal instincts and limit themselves to pieces of the template mosaic that they call "life".

"Why don't you want to be with someone? This is not normal" – asked Melissa in such a tone, as if such concepts as the apotheosis of rationality and freedom do not exist, and she had never heard of such things and did not think about it.

"For some reason, I always thought it was pretty obvious. It's very simple. I'm not ready for a relationship. Neither spiritually, nor morally, nor physically," replied Psyche, hardly able to utter a single word. After all, she absolutely knew that all this was pointless. Explain to people who are trapped in their prosaic interests that relationships are not just about self-affirmation and social indulgence, and certainly not just about physical interaction. She was very sorry to have to waste her time and energy on such fruitless conversations, and to be a participant in verbiage.

"This is all so unusual and strange. Okay. Let’s go to a boutique? I got my eyes on something beautiful. You might like it and buy it yourself. We will wear the same dresses."

Melissa had no idea how much she was distorting Psyche's inner world and even to some extent hurting her pride by saying such words. "Shall we wear the same dresses?" thought Psyche to herself. It became obvious that a squabble between the two was inevitable…

When the mother found out about this quarrel, she did not support her daughter. Psyche knew perfectly well that this was what was going to happen, but it didn't hurt that her mother had almost never supported her or tried to understand her. Sometimes the attempts emerged from the insipid reservoir of her inner world. However, Psyche does not need this for a long time. And sometimes she scoffs at the fact that she once believed in the need for such a dubious source of her usefilness and self-confidence as someone's “support”

2

Once again, all family members had the opportunity to witness another day. Psyche washed her face, as always scrupulously refreshing it with icy water, which, she said, was incredibly enlivening.

She lost no time and began to clean up the house. Obsessive-compulsive disorder is her lot. And she felt it more for the human being than for things that could be washed or wiped and that could not be cleaned themselves. She was upset when she saw her close people carelessly throw clothes and objects, perceiving it as disrespectful to her work and lost time.

Her parents were asleep, and Psyche went to the kitchen to make breakfast. She loved crunchy white bun toast: rich, with a golden tint and a vibrant flavor that made all her taste buds remember what it was like to feel. When she made a portion of her favorite toast, she always spread it with melted cheese, which melted not only in her mouth, but also on the bun, penetrating all open spaces. She also liked sweet tea, but the only thing that bothered her was that the small amount of white powder dissolved so quickly. "Wow, just like the truth dissolves in the ocean of our human delusions, and sometimes not human at all. How often do we mistake salt for sugar? " she thought to herself.

When it came to eating, the young girl liked to chew everything carefully and slowly, feeling every particle. In her opinion, this is one of the most easily accessible ways to be in the present, in addition to taking a shower and listening to music. The way to not think about the past, but just enjoy the taste. The way to not rush anywhere, and therefore not worry about the future. "A meal is an opportunity to inhale a sip of the present that lasts for a few moments," she accepted this thought with sadness, looking out the window at the clear, deep blue sky.

At this moment, the mother could be heard in the next room, who was in the habit of talking on the speakerphone. Psyche was clearly aware that she was on the phone with Lamia, Melissa's mother. The young girl was still in the kitchen, thinking of many things. At this moment, still talking, the mother went into the kitchen. She was making breakfast and slicing some food.

"Why live like this? When will her son grow wiser?"

"Did you notice what she said yesterday?"

"You too? I thought I was the only one who saw such bad taste in a person's clothes and conversation."

"Oh, if only they had the slightest notion of what really means the bad taste in conversation" – was indignant and thought to herelf Psyche.

"Yes, she definitely felt like a fish out of water."

"That's right, she doesn't need to come to such events. It doesn't suit her. That’s not hers."

"You are right, people don't understand how to live in society at all."

– "We always want the best for the person."

It would seem what such a grandiose thing was done by that unfortunate woman, which caused a flurry of negativity and a storm of emotions in mothers. Her kid died. The daughter. And all the people just gathered in honor of this event in the life of Failia. This was another reason for Psyche to be disillusioned with people. It was unpleasant for her to realize that people took even such a pure and sincere thing as death in an ignorant way. For such people, the death of a familiar person is another way to get together, to show their "superiority" in appearance and in position in society.

“As if Failia needed the pseudo – involvement of strangers in her life and their pseudo-support”, Psyche thought. "She just wanted peace and solitude, without all the hypocrisy and arrogance that musty society has to offer. Services of society for which you pay with your inferiority and state of mind, but you get either nothing or even more damage. People have one thing in mind – to show that they participate in the life of society. They want to help everyone, to be praised and appreciated. And after all, sometimes there is something for it, but sometimes, unfortunately, it is a cheap acting game."

Meanwhile, the father was also awake. He started having breakfast and as always paid attention to the quality of the tea. In his opinion, tea should be brewed correctly, following some instructions. Only Psyche became more and more convinced that her father had probably not read the instructions of life fully, or had not read them at all.

Although he was a literate and educated person, and there was something to talk about with him. But, alas, such moments in their lives were rare. They didn't talk much, and they didn't try to figure out who or what they were, and they didn't understand each other. They failed to give experience, their vision, and fill their presence in each other's lives with energy. The father did not try to please the family and took everything for granted, without trying to revive any common worthwhile values. However, he was a sympathetic, kind and gentle person, because in life there were many situations where he did not leave a person in trouble if there was a chance, whether it was his relatives or strangers.

One day a father brought someone else's child home. The child belonged to a good friend of his. She asked for help because she couldn't look after the girl because of work. Psyche did not think that the girl's mother was a bad person, and the child was interesting, sweet, and her eyes were full of hope. The girl's clothes were snow-white, and the bows looked like snowflakes. "Father just brought this child to us, but it was I who helped her deal with her inner world. Hmm, and yet, what is a boon?” – thought the young lady, while spending time with the daughter of dad’s friend, playing with her and offering the piece of white paper and colored pencils. And the mother talked a little with this, in her opinion, amusing child, they had fun, and they fell asleep together, because Psyche was not willing to sleep with Jeanne in the same bed.

3

Wearing her favorite white dress, Psyche decided to go for a walk, get some fresh air. She liked to wander around the park that was next to her house. The heartbreaking scenery and imposing sounds of the ocean waves always smite her on the spot. However, even the power of nature could not take over her mind and make her stop thinking and just enjoy everything that was happening.

"The father tries to please his brothers and sisters. And the mother is zealously engaged in what pleases society. Deforming each other and themselves, they do not notice how they try to understand others, how they adapt to others, how they try to prove something to others, but not to themselves and not to their family, which they consider as "the cult of life",-thought Psyche, sighing heavily.

"I never thought that being a foster child would be such a heavy burden. Most people will never even dream of seeing which composition are performing the notes of my soul." Psyche was not upset by this fact, and sometimes she was even glad of it. For her, being such an atypical child is another opportunity to feel like not an average person who understands and accepts everything much deeper, sees and thinks more. In her opinion, the word "non-average" is the highest compliment. Even though she knew that at the end of the day, we were all the product of selfishness, and we will remain it forever, and more than that, we will reproduce the same product.

The girl's mother was very concerned. Her daughter hasn't been home for a long time. She rushed to the phone and dialed Psyche's number endlessly. She didn't answer.

"Is there anything you can do? she said to her husband.

"What happened?” the girl's father asked.

"Psyche has been out of the house for a long time, and I can't reach her!"

"I think she's coming soon, and maybe her phone is dead. She will come and explain everything to us"

"Why don't you understand that this is very strange! She had never stayed so long without warning! Something has happened to her! I'm very worried!"

"Let's go find her, then."

"Where?"

"She's probably in the park somewhere. She loves this place and goes there often."

Parents quickly got ready and rushed to look for their daughter. They went into the park and saw a crowd of people talking furiously at the bridge. Mother and father did not understand what could have caused such a stir. They went to the crowd, to the very epicenter of the event, and heard a police officer and an eyewitness discussing an incident.

"I was walking in the park with my dog and I saw this charming girl. She passed by. Then I turned around just as she jumped off the bridge into the ocean."

"Could you describe her in more detail?» – excitedly asked the father the stranger, intervening in the dialogue.

– «Well. She's young enough. She has long snow-white hair, and she looks so unusual. It seemed to me that such people did not exist at all"

"What do you mean?"

– "Perfect silhouette, an innocent face and clear, vulnerable eyes. Her inhuman neatness pierced me. As if nothing in her appearance hinted at suicidal thoughts. She made the jump no less virtuoso. I even thought for a second that it was a part of a performance. I lost the desire to blame her for such a seemingly despicable action»

"What was she wearing?» Psyche's parents asked the witness.

"She was wearing a white dress and white shoes."