Clenching the arms of the chair I sat in, I worry the next name to be called will be mine.
Am I really ready to do this?
The door is opening. The fucking door is opening.
Is it to late to leave? I may be coming down with something.
I think I forgot to cut the stove off.
Shit, she called my name.
Where do I begin?
How do I accurately describe the being that is me?
I am a Gemini.
Maybe that’d be enough in searching for your soulmate, because I hear Gemini’s are a catch.
Sorry. I’m deflecting.
No eye contact.
She just asked about me avoiding eye contact.
Which further makes me avoid eye contact.
See because the second our eyes meet you will see the tears begging to be free and I will have no
control and I will let them go.
So, no. Definitely NO EYE CONTACT.
I am now digging my fingernails into my palms.
The slight tingling pain distracts me from how
uncomfortable I am sitting here trying to
open up scars only to discover new ways to close them again.
See what she doesn’t realize is that while she is asking her next question,
I am thinking about all the things I have left undone at home
Did I lock the door when I left?
Did I leave the milk…wait did I leave the stove on?
Where were we? Yes, I’m sorry.
I’ve been diagnosed with severe anxiety, depression, and PTSD
Is there a pill that would allow me to be happy?
Something that’ll make me stop thinking that my death is around the corner,
control my anger outbursts,
all the while keeping me awake to take care of my children.
I so desperately want to be whole again
I am willing to carry all the pieces of myself to you once a week
so that we may sort through the bad that has made me who I am
and the good that will determine who I’m going to be.
Is there anything else you want to know about me?