the office

I hated you for making me go.
I didn't tell anyone.
No one asked about the doctor's name on the calender, marking the appointment.
No one thought twice about my absence.
The car ride was silent.
The receptionist was my cousin's grandpa's girlfriend.
But the sign by the door said "what is seen here, what is heard here, stays here".
I felt out of place in the waiting room.
I wasn't like these people. They had it all wrong.
I realized I was smarter than professionals. They believed your lies. They believed my lies.
Pamphlets lined one wall. Answers to anything in a pamphlet.
I flipped through a magazine, pretending to be interested.
The office was small.
There was a tall, narrow window on the wall opposite the door.
A dog passed with its owner.
He talked. She talked.
I sat silent.
There was a tall bookshelf, filled with medical texts.
I passed a lot of the time by browsing the titles... pretending to browse the titles.
One wall was littered with diplomas and framed honors. Again I stared.
The leg of his pants rose when he sat down.
He wore fancy socks.
This is what I looked at. His socks. I stared and stared at his socks.
I resented you for making me go and I resented you for blaming him.
And so I stared at his socks in defiance.
He pulled out a file. I tried to read as he wrote.
I only half listened to the things I was being told.
Only half listened to the long list of side affects being recited.
I'd nod my head occasionally, only to humor them.
After all, this wasn't for me. You wanted this.
It hurt. It still hurts.
That office is where I learned to be expressionless.
That office is where I learned apathy.
That office is where I learned to be cold and cynical.
That office aided in my shutting down.
I think a part of me was left behind in that office.
Left still staring at the man's socks.
The man's fancy socks.