Tuesday, 17 January 2012

Check up.

So I sit and wait and listen to the empty chatter and the footsteps and the bag rummaging over and over, keys found three minutes ago but the lady by the corner persists on seeing them so I listen with my legs crossed and watch doctor upon doctor pass by posing like school teachers with their high heads and clipboards, trainee doctors following like snotty uptight prefects. I guess then that makes the group of nurses down the corridor like support staff, echoing a stupid little voice when they tell you what you need to do. I don't feel like an adult when I'm in hospital. I feel trapped again.

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