Epiphany

Jun 26, 2008

"You seem like a normal teenager to me." She's the kind of mental health worker who surrounds herself with family photos and cliches such as "Live. Laugh. Love."

I smile and nod in response, my face flushed with a shade of embarassment.

She continues to flip through her papers, telling me how everything gets forgotten and misplaced after a ten month break. I ignore her and continue to stare at her ugly purple toenails. Purple is my favourite colour.

She explains to me that consoling would be my best option, and that she would present my case to a women at the regional hospital. Present my case? Oh, so if I seem fucked up enough, they'll take me in. I understand.

I receive a small card and a suicide lecture as I exit her office. I feel incredibly stupid for coming here as I reach the elevator, demanding the machine to take me to the ground floor. I read a poster explaining how scented items can cause dangers to people with allergies. The perfume I wore today is of little concern to me.

My mother unlocks the door of the car as I approach. Funny how a Toronto woman feels unsafe in the capital of Hicksville. She asks me how it went, and I tell her that I don't know. It was only half of a lie.

Mannequins with perfect nipples pout at the dingy window as we drive by. I think to myself that it's time to start over.