Dan sat musing behind his polished mahogany desk. The sharp taps on the door broke the spell of his reminiscing. 

The door cracked open, a young woman in deep purple pantsuit, auburn  hair tied in a tight bun, oversized glasses that kept slipping off the tip of her nose. A clipboard in hands framed by perfectly manicured black fingernails. peeked through. “Excuse me sir, your four o'clock is here”.

He smiled at her, he had no need of a secretary but her mannerisms and appearance amused him. He employed her out of his amusement, she was a welcome escape from the dark realities of the human mind.

“let him in” Dan said. 

 “It’s that time again” he thought to himself, the consistency of his patient was welcome as he was a stable source of income, contributing generously to the establishment of his therapeutic clinic. But the length of these meetings…

Deep down, he feared the counselling sessions might go on forever. To him, that was a blessing and a curse simultaneously. The grim realities or revelations from Patrick tore pieces from him, he felt bits and pieces of himself falling apart with each session. He worried that soon, there would be nothing left. Instead of making Patrick better, it seemed Patrick was making him worse.

As the door opened, he put on his welcoming smile. Shoving his worries and doubts deep down, leaving the usual stoic facade of false confidence and bravado.

Patrick walked in, looked at his ever cheerful doctor, gave a brief smile in response to his therapist's welcoming gesture. He collapsed into the couch he had grown to associate with home

“I bring you yet another conspiracy” 

Patrick looked towards Dan sitting opposite him and asked “How much thought have you given to aging?”

 Patrick didn’t wait to be replied,  as he dove into his monologue. “ I hate aging, I hate time, I hate children”. At this point, he stopped, looked blankly into space for a few seconds then corrected himself. “Actually, I love kids. I just feel sorry for them. To be hated so much by those that call themselves your parents that they bring you into this world without your consent”.

“I'm in my early twenties but I feel older than ninety. Time marches on, it’s just insane. From the point we’re born, it's a relentless march to the grave. I sit down at times watching, just staring at the world, as time goes by. The new generation popping up, continuing this endless cycle”. 

“You know, just for the fun of it, I worked as a teacher in my late teens. I watched kids live the life I once lived, having fun, keeping secrets, interacting with friends. These kids all live life enveloped in their own bubbles. Looking at them, I remember being their age, how nothing bothered me when I lived my simple life of fun and food. I’m constantly reminded that there's nothing for anyone in this world. Just death. What's the point? I already know how it ends.”

He let out a long sigh. “Lets face it, we all know how it ends, we’re basically just going through the motions. I think I read this somewhere, ‘the sole purpose of life is death’. Everything in between is just aesthetics, meaningless or pointless garbage to fill in the space as we await the inevitable end”.

“Have you ever looked at a child and thought ‘that was once me?’ Time really is a bitch. We all fade into oblivion”. 

“And the conspiracy or the crazy thing is how people are made to believe that old age is a blessing”.

“No one really wants to age, but given we have no choice, we all pretend to look forward to it”. He laughed maniacally “to look forward to being forgotten, a faint memory in the minds of the senile and amnesic”

“Any thoughts doc”? He asked 

Dan inhaled sharply, the question a jolt bringing him back to reality. “Lets begin."