06/07/2016

I fidget in the waiting room. 
The doctor is 13 minutes and 17 seconds late, 
I bite my nails in anticipation,
and stare at the crack in the wall,
I wonder how big it would have to get to bring the whole place down.

The scabs on my arms start bleeding again, 
absent minded scratching back on the list of habits I tried to quit,
Alongside showering with the water too hot,
And hair pulling,

(The little brown girl in the pink dress two seats down gazes at blond hair and blue eyes in magazines,
The beginnings)

The doctor calls me in,
she spends 5 minutes with me,
I didn’t need her to tell me what’s wrong,
I know what’s wrong,

I make paper planes out of my prescriptions,
I laugh,
They told us to take a chill pill, 
Now half of us are on Prozac. 

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