Psychiatrist Appointment

Psychiatrist appointment

He walks languid and slow

Like he had all the time in the world

Chest out, head tall, shoulders back

His heels clack click down the corridor

Reverence in his wake

As he carries with him an air of forced calm

That beats even the most nervous into submission

He doesn't greet me with a smile

He calls my name and I stand

Expected to follow behind

Hands clasped to elbows in front of me

A lousy protection against his pacifying aura

I know what I'm here to do, to say,

I won't be swayed into some easy tranquil atraxia

He holds the door open

And I follow him through

Taking a seat in front of his desk

My eyes trail their usual loop,

From the certificate, to the desk,

to the window behind him

Always speaking to the room,

Not to him.

My eyes refuse to meet his face

Refuse to even try

And I reach for an open wound,

My thumb digging into the flesh beneath

For some relief from the

static dead silence that follows our interactions

The door is closed,

the meeting private

Until next week

it sucks to be mentally ill and be aware of it. i feel so trapped in my own mind. i know these thoughts arent mine and yet they affect me so. the worst part is that others cant be aware like i am. they hurt them and they dont know its not me. that i dont mean it. no matter how hard i try to communicate that, its all coming from me in their eyes

If I'm going to feel this way for the rest of my live I'd rather not live at all.