It has been a long day and it is not over yet. I am sitting here, waiting for it to be over. The waiting is the worst part. I do not know if today will be the last time I come here or if I will be back every day for the next nine months. I do not like hospitals. I don't like the pain they bring people. I don't like the fear of not knowing whether someone is ever going to make it out of there or if this is how they will end their lives. It's lonely in the waiting room, like a Monday morning church.
             I have been coming here for a while now, visiting. Hospitals scare me, I feel like I am the only one here. It's dark, the bright lights do nothing but blind me. I feel like a deer caught in the headlights. No where to go and no where to hide. It's bitter and I can never seem to get warm. I wear extra clothes to try to keep the warmth in, but it doesn't work. I can only sit here for so long without becoming nauseous. The stench, reminiscent of ammonia and bleach, only brings unpleasant memories. I need air or I think I might pass out. I can taste it, pungent. It's in the back of my throat, choking me.
             It is hushed, as if no one else is there. I only hear footsteps and they seem so far away. Everyone is whispering for fear of speaking to loud will cause death. Maybe if we don't talk about the inevitable, it will never come. The secrets, hiding from death when death is the one thing we can be sure is coming. The awful music; like a dentist's office, but worse. Occasionally it cuts out, when the receptionist comes over the microphone to page a doctor. I jump. I'm anxious, I can't sit still; yet I can't get up to move.
             The looks on the faces of the people coming in and out, knowing how they are scared and confused. The emptiness in the eyes of those waiting for the doctors to come back with news. Not knowing if they will be leaving the hospital with the one's they love, or...