Chapter 1: A Struggle with Memories

"What's this nonsense you're asking me to do? Following this light back and forth—what's the point? Is it supposed to trigger a memory? If so, why are you insisting I 'remember' things that feel fabricated?"

Carl's mind raced with frustration. "Am I just clinging to a victim identity that I loathe when I see it in others?"

"Alright, I’ll play along. What memory do you want me to dig up?"

"You can select any memory, Carl."

As he shifted in his chair, Carl attempted to comply with this bizarre exercise. He thought to himself, "This is uncomfortable. It’s not going to work."

"Focus on the light and breathe, Carl. Now, think of a memory."

"What memory are you referring to now for the tenth time?"

"Any childhood memory will do, Carl."

"Fine! You want a memory? Here it is!"

Carl envisioned himself in a bathroom, overwhelmed by fear and confusion, struggling to hold back tears. From an aerial perspective, he saw his six-year-old self by the sink, unable to meet his own gaze in the mirror, filled with anguish and dread.

His mother, distressed, sat on the toilet, patting his back with wet towels. "Wait! Am I just imagining this? It feels so unreal. Am I doing this correctly?"

"Concentrate, Carl. You're not making anything up. Just breathe."

The chaos in the bathroom was palpable. His mother was upset, he was upset, and his father was crying in the bedroom. "I was so confused at six, and honestly, I’m still perplexed today. Am I fabricating this? No one else recalls it—just me!"

He vaguely remembered his mother urging him to apologize to his father. "For what, Mom? I have no clue why I have welts on my back or why Dad's upset with me! But sure, I’ll do it. Please, just don’t panic, Mom! Everything will be alright!"

He watched his younger self, visibly anxious, enter the room with blue walls, a slowly spinning ceiling fan, and the sound of his father's muffled cries.

"What am I doing here? Am I just imagining all this? Why am I apologizing?"

"Keep going, Carl. Focus on the light."

"Forget your light! I feel judged and uncomfortable."

He tapped his father's shoulder, offered a gentle pat on his back, and murmured, "It’s okay; I’m sorry."

After that, everything became a haze—a blur that left him questioning his childhood recollections. "I feel so ungrateful for even discussing this! I can't even remember leaving the room, his reaction, or what happened later that night. It’s all gone; my memory has shut down."

"Am I fabricating this? Please tell me I’m not. I’m just a confused six-year-old trapped in a 49-year-old's body!"

"What’s the purpose of this light I’m supposed to follow?"

"My mind races too much for any of this to work. How do I know I didn’t invent this?"

It suddenly dawned on him. "Perhaps I haven’t made it up. I might have suppressed some of the memories, but my reality is sitting out in the waiting area—my ex."

"Explain yourself, Carl..."

"I'm here because my ex and I are trying to mend a four-month relationship full of lies, deceit, and gaslighting. We're in this room to heal, to start fresh after her infidelity. But wait, it’s only been four months—why is this all on me? I feel like I’m to blame!"

Now, she would likely blame him even more, feeding his self-doubt. "She says I never give her a chance, that I need to be patient and trust her. But how can I? She just keeps lying!"

"And the twisted part? I can’t walk away! I need to apologize!"

"For what, Carl?"

"I don’t know! I just want to fix this—I can't let her leave me! I’m sorry for not being enough or for doing whatever it was I shouldn’t have done. Just give me another chance, and I’ll show her I can do better!"

"But, Carl, what are you apologizing for?"

"I told you! I yelled at her, just like I’m doing now! I feel awful. I said horrible things."

"I'm so lost. I can’t even remember if I’m recalling events accurately! I feel like I’m making this all up! She cheated with my best friend too. Did I mention that? I can’t remember anything anymore; my mind has gone numb."

"Did she really cheat? Am I gaslighting myself, or is she the one doing it? Can you please ask her when she comes back in? She’ll probably ask if I cried too. I don’t know why, but I didn’t cry—make sure to tell her that!"

"Get that light out of my eyes! I feel foolish—can we please do this another time? I’m done; this isn’t working."

"Carl, you had every right to react the way you did. She did some terrible things."

"Did she? Maybe it’s not that serious. Maybe I’m exaggerating. I genuinely don’t know what to believe anymore. Why don’t we discuss this? Bring her back in; I need to hear it from her. She’s always so cryptic when I ask her questions. I just want to understand why she behaves this way! She’ll apologize, but then the next day, she blames me again and blocks me."

"I just don’t want to lose her. She must realize I didn’t mean anything I said. I can work with her if she’s honest with me."

"I understand her. I really do."

"It’s clear no one understands me. I would go through hell to explain myself to those who never cared or listened."

"Is this session over yet?"

In this video, “A-Wall - Loverboy (Lyrics) | kill the lights so baby close your eyes,” we delve into the emotional landscape of love and longing, paralleling Carl's struggles with his memories.

Chapter 2: The Weight of Relationships

The second video, “Loverboy (LYRICS) 'Kill the lights oh baby close your eyes' [TikTok Song],” encapsulates the complexity of relationships, reflecting the turmoil that often accompanies love, much like Carl's experiences in therapy.