Diamond Tiara looked around herself, at the surrounding couples that surrounded her. The group consisted of a pretty average mixture of humanoid figures, all of them differing in color, shape (some more round, some more long and thin), and size (some were taller than others), from the group only she stood out, not because she was wearing any particularly outlandish and rich bracelet ,necklace , garniture or expensive clothes that had had a cost of thousands (though she did have plenty of those),but because she was the only one in the group that stood, alone. Every single one of those humanoids, “humans” were accompanied, not Tiara though. As the mediator, someone with a bizarre name that sounded a lot like something that came out a cartoon for little girls, made a sign, Tiara sighed. It was her time to talk. She sighed again, and again, and again. She counted 37 short breathed sighs before she started talking, those gave her time to prepare her speech a little bit, and though she liked to imagine she had it perfected down to a tee, her voice stuttered noticeably when she started talking.
“ I’m not....the most joyful person to be around with. Even more so when my mood is rotten, and that is most of the time.”
Some humans started looking at her, murmuring and whispering about, Tiara was certain that they had recognized her, who wouldn’t? The attention had diverged, but the couples still kept looking at her, eyes glancing at her, ready to know what her point was.
“This isn’t really news to anyone, right? I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, I mean....It’s, being happy, it’s just not from me, you know?” Those same mumblings about it, and the questioning look of the mediator, that asked her why.
“Because, happiness, and niceness isn’t really all that great, sure it allows you to make friends, which are people you can use to manipulate, but we can get there with money!” The girl had no shame in talking about such a subject. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice that someone is nice to me, but most people already are because they want something from me, and I learned from a very early age not to trust many people, much less make friends.” Her eyes glazed at the furthest wall of the building, filled with ‘ Believe in yourself posters ’, she wasn’t really reading the message, much more concentrated in her own thinking. “With Silver Spoon it was different, she came from the same social class as me, and I knew she wasn’t trying to get anything out of me besides caring, which I may not have given her, all that much, but I consider her my friend at least.”
“And I may not be all happy dandy hyper mega super duper happy, partying around, making friends, but I’m happy in my own self centered way.”
The mediator simply raised an eyebrow, silently questioning, and asking “Is that really so?”
She took a deep breath and swallowed whatever saliva was left on her mouth, she was nervous, she wasn’t expecting to be questioned, most people didn’t dare. But this was what she (well, her dad) had paid for, a true introspective on her part.
“I don’t know” She truthfully answered, before her mind caught what she said, and her mouth closed, she put her hands in front of it, and made a gargled sound. “I mean, no, no,
I’m happy, I don’t even know why my dad paid for this therapy and group thing.”
The mediator smiled, he loved challenges, and Diamond Tiara was one heck of a challenge. He already had a pretty good idea of what her problem was.
“Dishing out the group won’t accomplish much, and neither will insulting my work. I have come to learn over the years that a hurt person will attack everyone but his or herself, that person will assign the blame for their faults on others. But eventually they learn, they all learn.
Tiara looked at him, her eyes filled with rage, if looks could kill, then the mediator would be just a simple pile of dust in the floor.
“Looks can’t kill either.”
“I know” She mumbled between gritted teeth.
“Do I have to call your dad and tell him you’re not being responsive?”
She took a deep breath, and resumed her usual tone, a lady like one she had been taught was appropriate. “Well, if this is all I have to do, sit here in this uncomfortable plastic chair, that looks ripped straight from an hospital, and talk about my feelings, I guess I can do that. That would be unnecessary mister...” She had already forgotten his name, that’s how little he meant to her.
Ignoring the lack of respect that was her missing his name, the Mediator continued asking her for her feelings.
“I may not be the most happy person around, that’s certain, but it also doesn’t mean I’m completely devoid of feelings! I mean, there’s greed, and my arrogance, and my sadism, and sure, those are all negative traits, but I also have some good traits like....” She paused for several minutes, trying to find a positive trait she could have. “I...hum...I....well ...maybe...no, that isn’t a positive trait at all....oh yes! I’m ambitious! Suck on....I mean, see? Ambition is a good thing!”
The mediator looked at her.
“If there’s one thing that you are not, it’s ambitious, first of all, you don’t need to, you already have everything you want, second of all, well, even if you were ambitious (which I repeat, you are not), ambition can be a bad thing, if it makes you trample others on your way to your goal. Sorry, but you’re going to have to find another positive trait.”
“Well, ok....I haven’t committed a crime?” She was getting desperate.
“Well, so haven’t millions of other people, and really if the best thing you can say is “I didn’t do this morally wrong thing” then I’m sorry to say, but you don’t have a positive trait. See, this is why your father sent you here, this isn’t a punishment, this is to help you.”
She threw her arms in the air in a dramatic fashion.
“Fine, spare me the sermon; what do I have to do?”
The mediator smiled, finally, some progress.
“Well, you could start by seeing what makes you happy and working towards it, and it has to be something you accomplish on your own, not something you buy your way into, after that you could apologize to everyone your hurt, and start making amends.”
“That sounds like an awful lot of work!” She complained.
“Tiara, there are millions of people who work their whole life’s and won’t half nearly a thousandth part of what you have, your own dad spends his days working to ensure you have everything you may want, a little work won’t kill you.”
She groaned in a very un lady like way.
“Fine, may I leave now?”
“You may, now be aware I will be in contact with your father.”
She left, and he turned to the other couples. “I’m sorry about that, special case, and all, I don’t get paid nearly enough for this, but, let’s help you all. What’s your problem?”
“My girlfriend refuses to try that new position!”
The mediator was the next to let out a barely heard groan, just his luck.
“What you have to do is...”
