Patient 1 broke the silence, his voice rhythmic, almost lyrical. "I'm the beating of the only organ that truly beats. When you hear me, I'm like music, sweet and harmonious. But sometimes, I'm a torch to your soul, a painful symphony you wish to escape. You ignore me, doc, always chasing your mind's demands. But I don't blame you. Even I ignore myself sometimes. Who am I? You must know."

I stared at him, my mouth dry. What could I say? His words felt directed not at the group, but at me alone. Before I could respond, Patient 2 spoke.

"I'm the one who brings eternal silence. I'm ugly, frightening, and unwanted. You hope for me to come when the time isn't right, but when my time arrives, you beg for me to stay away. I make sadness inevitable. Yet, when you accept me, none of it matters. You only remember me in your grief, doc. Isn't that true?"

I opened my mouth but found no words. Patient 3 interjected. "I'm endless," he said, almost playfully. "A circle that loops and loops. I'm both funny and tragic. I start with a date and end with another. You hate me for slipping away, yet I'm always here. Choices, doc. They're what I'm all about. And you... you waste me."

His accusation hit like a blow. Before I could process it, Patient 4's voice rang out, soft but piercing.

"I'm shaped by your every decision," he said. "Each wrong choice stains me darker; each good act lightens me. I'm unseen, living deep within your beating organ. I'm fragile, doc. You've ignored me for too long. Can you see me now?"