Look up at the board to see how long until my train is due. Notice a business man open the door to enter the male bathroom and then exclaim, “sorry!” to the person inside who didn’t lock the door. Share a brief moment of laughter with the business man. Stand in the shadow of a lamppost on the platform. Feel something bite my ankle. Regret wearing skinny jeans. Crush what is probably an ant underneath the denim. Worry that it was a spider. Board train.
Report for appointment. Sit in the sun outside so I can smoke and avoid the waiting room. Get angry at psychiatrist for running late again. Hope to get sunstroke to teach her a lesson. Go inside. Tell her I’ve been very angry lately. Get angry at her. Go on a rant about psychiatry. Mention that I’m very against the medical model. Tell her the benzos are putting holes in my brain. Meekly ask for prescriptions for Xanax and Valium. Mention that I have been writing a lot. When she asks about what I have been writing, tell her I’m doing an exposé on psychiatry and that I am not really crazy at all. Laugh at myself.
Walk to the train station. Decide to look for a few Christmas presents on the way. Get completely stressed out and buy two tops for myself instead. Check bank balance. Nearly cry. Wait eight minutes for a train. Get back to my suburb and go to the local chemist. Give them my prescriptions and realise this is the worst time to come. Wait for far too long to get my hole-in-the-brain-meds. Walk home. Eat half a mango. Watch the season finale of “Homeland.” Cry. Go to bed.