"I'm sitting here in the boring room.
It's just another rainy Sunday afternoon..."
The music crackled through the radio. I sat in the waiting room, under the glare of flourescent lights. The walls were that wood paneling and the carpet bore the marks of several stains. There was a fake plant keeping the magazines company.
I hate doctors. I always have. They tell you you are fine when you know full well there is something wrong. Then they prescribe you some unheard of medication and send you on your way. It always happens, at least it always happens to me.

And that's just what happened again, except with a psychiatrist. I feel so freakishly mental at the point. Seems a bit contradictory, a mental health specialist making you feel mental.

I step back outside into a town God himself seems to have forgotten. This town, desolate and obscure, is a blemish on the face of the Earth. I lack the courage to go abroad.

It's late October and the dying leaves are shivering in the wet cold. The weather continues to annoy our small population with its bi-polar behaviour. I'm in a sweater and scarf and chilly, yesterday, the high was 62 degrees!

Getting into my car, which acts older than me, I ponder whether of not to even drop off this prescription. He told me to call him in two weeks with a followup, so I may as well, but medication is so damned expensive.