Well, here goes another essay.
Honestly, I don't know why we've all put up with Sheridan's request to do this. She's cracked in the head, that woman! She's old though, and so that means she's dying which means requests like this actually sort of matter. Hi, I'm Marcie by the way.
I don't really know what to say about myself. I'm just a curly-haired, dimpled blonde who never got her master's degree because my professors died off even before the bombings. I was going to me a psychotherapist, a counselor, a shrink, whatever you want to call it. Tough irony I've now got nearly twenty clients all suffering from one thing or another and all without the means for payment and all living under the same roof as me.
I love it.
Another thing about myself is that I'm pretty cheerful and optimistic most of the time. It's a quality of my personality that led be to become a counselor. Depressed people like a smile and they like to be told they can smile too. A therapist and counselor needs to act his or her part just as much as any actor does. However, a counselor needs to be serious too. They have to have the ability to empathize. It's easy though. A heartfelt tear is just as easy as a smile.
Most days, when I talk with people and feel like I'm helping them out, I forget everything. I forget about my old friends, my family, and everything I once had. I just have that wonderful feeling of having done something good. I love the people I'm with now too. They've kept me strong for so long, and it makes me hopeful for future years.
I really am, truly hopeful.