Figures of Stigma: Masao Dobrow

“There is a lost myth about the Aokigahara forest. Those who wander past the fallen souls and moss-covered trees encounter a rustic mansion known to heal all mental wounds. It has been disregarded for decades as it had never been found. Many have turned this belief into a hoax to encourage people to visit the forest and commit suicide. As of now, Japan has the highest suicide ratings in the world, most taking place in Aokigahara. Those who entered have never returned.”

I set aside the newspaper on the desk and outlined my knee briefly with the pen while I waited for his response. The ticking of the broken clock fell rather loud while we were sitting in our chairs, and I felt my eyebrow start to twitch out of frustration. I look away for a brief moment to control my sense of anger while my fingers slick my hair back, and as I was turning he finally said,

“I-I’m lost, unable to identify my p-purpose in this world. I feel my light is d-dimming.” 

His arms were in his lap with his shoulders hunched over. I shift my position in my chair to allow myself to get a better look.

“What’s your personality type?” I asked.

“ISFP,” he responded.

I scribbled these 4 letters onto my notepad. 

“Look, I get it, the world is a place that is naturally dark, so it’s tough always having your own light constantly shining to keep you from losing yourself,” I spoke, “We both know that you are widely independent and have a hard time attempting to society’s strict social hierarchy as you like to abide by your own rules.”

Introverted.

He slowly nods to reassure me of his understanding as my fingers dug into my leg and my shoulders tightened up.

“Now, constantly having this too-narrow perspective allows you to become practical, always reaching for the obvious solutions rather than taking a step back and reaching for something further,” I continued.

Observant.

He adjusts his seat, wiping one of his hands on his pantsuit. His outfit of choice was rather interesting for someone who claimed to be dimming. The man wore what appeared to be a black tailored suit that had golden cuffs on them. His silver hair was beautifully slicked back into a man bun. Some of his baby hairs broke through its hold and were scattered around the outline of his pale face. I would say he was a Russian man, more prominently Russian and Asian. 

“With that said, I feel the obvious choice for you is to talk about yourself negatively…”

I briefly coughed to stop the flow of my acid reflux from dribbling down my chin.

“...since it’s what you’re used to doing right?”

He doesn’t show any response.

“All this negativity allows for you to experience severe self-esteem issues, especially if you rely heavily on your emotions to navigate you around life.”

Feeling.

One of the windows in the room swung open causing a startle in both of us. I properly excuse myself and went to shut it. As I was gripping the side to close, I saw Kibo out in the garden. He was hunched over what seemed to be what’s left of an animal’s carcass. I couldn’t see him in high definition as I was on the third floor of the mansion, but he looked like he was tugging at its insides, tearing intestine to intestine. My shoulders began to loosen as I inhaled.

I walk back and continue what I started.

I slump into my chair as I pick up my notepad. I notice he’s side glancing at me, still one hand tugging at his knee. He looked tense.

“In the end, I think you really need to become more aware of what you have in front of you…”

I clear my throat.

“… you’re probably a wonderful person, who has a lot to live for. If you stop dwelling over what you could have or wish you had, then you won't be able to see what you already have in front of you.”

Perspective.

The man doesn’t say anything in response to what I’ve said. He just casually makes eye contact with me while dazing around the room.

“You know,” he finally murmurs , “I don’t know what I’d do without your help.”

I begin to grit my teeth.

“Without you, I’d just be another person engulfed by society's standards. Constantly agonizing all my pain and anger. I do need-“

I began to purposely tune out what he was saying as it hit me that what I told him was utter bullshit. I started to feel a bit dizzy and enhanced my grip on the chair arms. My ears started to ring loudly as I noticed the walls caving in. I completely snapped out of it when I heard him say;

“The world is such a beautiful pla-“

“No.” I blurt out. 

That was it, that’s the last thing I wanted to hear. I quickly went silent after. I looked back at him. I could tell by the way his eyebrows shifted that he was confused about what I was doing.

“N-no? What? You just gave me all thi—”

“It was a lie!” I began to laugh, “My job is supposed to suppress the truth to those seeking it; all while offering other alternatives that just gloss over the tragic reality we face today. What kind of therapist would I be if I hid the truth from clients? I don’t see why we can’t tell people the truth about this world. I also don’t see why death isn’t a reasonable option, if suicide is what they want to do then I shouldn’t be the one to stop them.”

All his hope that was once in his eyes began to swindle away causing my jaw to unclench itself.

“So you really want to know the truth? There are people who pray upon those like you, the types that wander endlessly into the world. They take advantage of those who are weak just so they can boost up their egos. Someone who’s lonely and antisocial like you has no place on this Earth except for being food for the narcissist.”

Introverted.

A smile peaks through my lips as my hands lose their grip on the chair's arm. It feels good finally shining light on the truth.

“You should stop ignoring the signs about who you truly are.”

Observant.

The man didn’t say anything, he was frozen, taking each blow from the words I fired at him.

“Your light is dimming. It’s dimming because you understand the truth that you’ll never be able to find what you’re searching for. Jobless, talentless…” I cracked a huge smile, “Just, nothing to offer.”

Feeling.

“You need to underst—”

“But it’s not true” he quickly cut me off.

I unfold my legs and scoot towards the edge of my seat. He did exactly the same.

“Yes, I’m nothing, but I chose to be this way. I kept thinking who or what is going to change me. I don’t want to be in this slump anymore. I don’t want to have to wake up everyday and remind myself how yesterday was just another blessing wasted…”

I sigh, heavily.

“You know, what you said in the beginning is true,” he kept rambling. “Maybe I am too harsh on myself and too narrow minded. Maybe I—”

I hear Kibo coming up the stairs, the creaking of the boarding echoed through the room. My heart started racing as I knew it was coming to an end.

With no hesitation, I grab the knife from my sleeve and aim for the man's neck. In one swift motion, I throw the weapon full force from my palm and through my fingertips. 

As the tip of the blade begins to touch upon the neck, the glass shatters in front of me completely. My practice session has ended.

I turn to my left and see Kibo carrying a broom and tray. I turn back to admire the shattered class.

He signs the phrase, “Are you finished?” with his fingers as I nod in response. Kibo is a mute boy. When I caught him eating a male corpse out in the forest, I decided to bring him to the cellar and rip out every single one of his teeth as punishment.

“How did it go?” he signs.

I shrug.

“Not as good, I get too into this practice and try to come up with stupid scenarios my clients might say. I hate the ones that engulf themselves in their perseverance, it makes me have to fight even harder. Having the joy to build them up and the pleasure to knock them down is what I was born to do. I also enjoy looking at myself in the mirror, it helps me practice my expressions making my manipulation easier.”

“Masao, don’t you think you’re sending the wrong message about mental health?” Kibo silently responds.

Kibo is already on the floor sweeping up the glass for the 8th time this week. I help move the mirror out of the way and into a corner, saving it for later. When I reached out my arm for the mirror, I saw him flinch out the corner of my eye. If I were to ask if he's alright, it would definitely leave him bewildered so instead I turned my back to him. 

“Kibo,” I began to say “It’s my job to kill people when our city gets overpopulated. It’s not easy being the owner of the Iyashi Mansion and having the responsibility to decide who gets to live.”

He scoffs, still focusing on cleaning up the glass. 

“I’m serious, it gets intense. Not many people are happy knowing that sometimes you’ll never find what you’re searching for in this world. I could spend my time doing better things then.”

He drops the tray full of glass and immediately looks at me.

“It’s people like you…” he gestures, “...who force others to remain silent about their state of mind, as if it’s ancient forbidden text. It’s people like you that believe mental illness is some sort of playful banter when on the contrary it’s beyond important. You don’t shine light on the truth, you just point them into the direction of despair and let them run freely. How can you confidently call yourself a therapist when you don’t even believe in the importance of the mind yourself?”

It was my turn to scoff.

“First off, unlike everyone else, I’ve been given my purpose, and that’s to do this job. Second, everyone has their own opinion. You’ve been pestering me for months about what I do, yet you never took the initiative to go visit Hans and file a report. So frankly, your opinion doesn't affect me as long as I know you won’t do anything to try to stop this. Bystanders are just as equally guilty, you know?”

Kibo twitches his fingers as if to say something, but immediately backs down.

I guess he’s right, I do force people to stay silent.