Welcome To New York

One

The thing that probably sucks the most is going to daily therapy. At the institution they already track your weight,medicine and make you go to bed by 8:30 every night whether it's summer or winter. But the therapy is too much. 45 minutes in a small enclosed office with a professional who determines if you are crazy or not is definitely out of my comfort zone.

Although talking to waitresses or store clerks is out of my zone too.

Dr. Lankford sat cross legged with her blonde hair propped right above her pinkened ears with small grey studs. Her lipstick was too bright for her nude eyeshadow and her green eyes forced eye contact.

Dr.Lankford let out a soft sigh and leaned back into her chair- it causing a small creak. The room was an awkward silence.

A profession and a screw up. Not a good blend- in a drink, food or in nature.

Sitting in this small encloses office which a strong Ray of sunlight streaming through creating the side of my cheek to feel hot. My small hands clammy.

I veer a bit to the left, a black clock sitting by the door. 4:03 p.m. 20 more gruesome minutes.

"So, have any thoughts?" Her voice cracked through the silence- like a shovel against ice.

"No." I warbled- annoyed by the clear yet defining question.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"yeah."

"How was last nights dinner?" She took out a gold pen and clicked it quickly with her dry thumb.

"Um...fine. I'm not a big fan of chicken soup but I ate all of it." I pulled my thin black hair behind my ear and stared at the grey carpet that was freshly vacuumed.

"Alright. Cassidy avoiding talk and eye contact won't help. We are on your side. Work with us."

"My side."

They could care less. If they were on my side- I would be out of here. I'd be in Cali with my stepsister laying on the hot sand with salty spray of the blue speckled ocean in my face.

But no I was here. In Michigan with no relatives within a mile.