Waiting Room

Waiting in the room that smells like lemons. My mom is talking to my psychiatrist as I wait in this room. Across from me is a girl with heels, a skirt, and kool-aid. She gives me dirty looks and seems to have a strange life. I think her mom is seeing her therapist and she's waiting. I can't help but think how crazy her mom is. Does her mom do drugs and is trying to quit. Does the girl come here every week with her single parent. Where's the dad? Why did he leave? She has terrible hair and expensive clothes. If I stare at her, she stares back, but it's scary. Next to her is a guy. He's big. Not very fat, just a little and shaped as a small giant. He has on a nike shirt and terribly worn shorts. He's popping all his muscles. I think he's nervous. I look into his eyes and he looks dead inside. I feel like he is constantly looking at me and can read this. I wish he'd say something so I could ignore him and see his reaction. It's so quiet it sounds like a airplane going off. I need to pop my ears because of the silence. The girl has an iPhone and so do i. He doesn't. Did he come here alone? Is he seeing a therapist or psychiatrist. What medicine does he take? Why is he here? We have a few things in common. We all feel awkward. We all don't want to be here. We're all at least a little crazy. We all are just trying to get out alive.