the cold fan running
the people chattering
i'm in the waiting room
biting my own nails
my brain is wired
my mind as blank
as the white wall in front of me
it's half past the scheduled time
of the appointment i never wanted to show up to
the psychologist is not here yet...
where is she?
i'm sitting here anxiously waiting
shaking my knees, rocking back and forth
can she just get here already?
so we can go back to that same old room
talk about the same old useless ****
for what must've been the hundredth time
and does it even matter
because none of it will fix my problems?
i'm still sitting here
my thoughts are consuming me
with each ticking of the clock
the fan feels a little colder
and the chatters seem a little louder