The walls inside the waiting area are turquoise in color, with grey leather seats and a few fake plants displayed by the window ledge. Except for the rhythmic ticking of the plastic clock on the wall, everything was motionless and silent. When I turned to gaze at my side, I noticed a small child fidgeting excessively across the room, his mother placing her hand over his.

I fell back in my chair, my lips pressed together in a tight line as I looked at the clock impatiently every few seconds.

When I turned to look at Clarissa, her face was strained and nearly pale from her overtime at work. Her hands were on top of her lap, which she pinched constantly.

Before we could go, we had to wait for the staff nurse to call my name. We went to the clinic today to pick up a copy of my medical records to provide to my new psychiatrist after making the final decision about seeing a new psychiatrist.

Clarissa's eyes were half-open, and I watch her head swing back and forth as she fought the urge to fall asleep.

"Ms. Lauren Sanders?" I hear a nurse announcing my name.

Clarissa quickly opened her eyes wide as I patted her on the shoulder. I pointed to the nurse as she looked at me and gave me a nod as I went up to the concierge.

I observe the nurse bending over the keyboard, her gaze shifting between the paper and the monitor. She stood up straight after she finished typing and I got the chance to take a good look at her. She appeared to be youthful and tall. As she flipped through the clipboard she was holding, I watch as her ponytail draped over one shoulder.

"Ms. Lauren Sanders?" She says my name again and I nodded my head, confirming it. "Let me just double check your records."

A door creaked open down the corridor to my left, and out walked two nurses in their customary scrubs: one wore navy-blue slacks with the same color as the short-sleeved top, while the other wore a light gray scrub. One had her hands stuffed inside her blouse pockets, while the other held a clipboard in her hand.

I return my gaze to the nurse in front of me, waiting for her to do her task. The voices of the two nurses were soft at first, but with each step they made, they became louder. As they continue to walk toward me, I begin to hear their conversation, which is about a patient and her family.

"Dr. Gregory is great at handling cases like those," One of the nurses said.

"Didn't he used to handle one of the cases of the Sanders family?" I overheard, making me instantly whip my head towards their direction as they continue to chat away.

The nurse, who was clutching a clipboard, nods her head while staring at something in her hands.

"He handles two cases, actually," The other nurse who had a white lanyard attached to a name tag that read "Natalie" nonchalantly replies. "I overheard in the staff room that he took the case of the other family member because he sees a resemblance with their cases."

"Ladies," The nurse in front of me almost hissed at them when she also heard the conversation. "There are patients here, please tone it down."

The nurses nodded their heads and smiled cheekily at her, excusing themselves quickly away from us.

Were they talking about Elise? I didn't know Elise consulted with Dr. Gregory, too. If it's true, would it be too late to change my mind about seeing a new therapist?

"Ms. Lauren Sanders, here's your medical records," The nurse in front of me says, snapping me out of my thoughts. I managed to smile at her before getting back to Clarissa.

I feel a heavy weight on my shoulder as I return to the waiting area. I kept glancing back at the two nurses who had just walked down the corridor and were now making their way up the stairs, as I try not to think about their conversation when I suddenly remembered dad being agitated that night when I overheard him and mom arguing about my seeing a psychiatrist.

Clarissa raises her head when she sees me, "Hey, kiddo. Got your medical records?" she asks as I nodded my head, still thinking about how they're saying that my case resembles with the other case that Dr. Gregory handles.

I considered asking Clarissa if she knew anything about it, but I dismissed the idea for the sake of keeping the other half of my mind calm.

Clarissa took the brown envelope containing my medical records from me. Clarissa stood up and put her arm over my shoulder as we walked side by side to the exit.

I let the thought of it linger in the back of my mind. It's either she's schizophrenic, too or I'm suicidal, too.

❀

AUTUMN morning,

they went.

the skylarks in the SKY,

faintly indescribable.

with teary eyes,

she said yes

as they both claimed

the unmarked grave

theirs.

I clutched the note tightly in my hand as we drove back to Carlsbad, re-reading it over and again. I envisioned looking at myself from a different angle. I may have appeared peaceful and quiet, but from the inside, my entire body is screaming, and my mind is completely wild. I feel like the walls within my skull are gradually closing in on me, leaving me with little room to absorb what I'm thinking or to properly suck air into my lungs and breathe.

I turn to look at Aaren when he snaps his finger on my face, and he glances at me before returning his gaze to the road ahead of us.

"You seem so out of it today," He says, sounding concerned, "Something bothering you?"

He takes another look at me—one good look. The kind of look that scans your face for any hidden emotion that the face is masking but only the eyes know the truth.

I turned my focus on my side of the window, watching as the countryside raced by at the same time as the car's pace increased, and imagining what it would be like to touch a cloud.

I battled the want to allow fresh ideas into my head as I considered whether or not I should ask Aaren about his opinions on what I overheard the other day at the clinic.

Before proceeding in that route, I considered where I should begin the topic. I had a defeated feeling about the whole idea, so I decided to simply go with whatever came out of my lips, "Do you think it's possible for a psychiatrist to handle the cases of two family members?"

He looked at me, confused about my sudden question.

"I'm not really sure but I think it's possible," he says, giving me a quick look.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I considered my alternatives for further debating and gathering viewpoints while holding the air. With an audible sigh, all I managed to say was, "All right."

If I tell him, he'll ask why I was in the clinic. Most of the students are aware that I've been going through some therapy, but I'm not sure whether Aaren is aware of it.

Why am I even so bothered with the thought of him knowing?

I'm not that crazy, am I? I'm still in control of my own thoughts, right? I'm still... conscious and awake and alive and breathing and living, right?

I suffocate myself by overthinking how I view myself as opposed to who I genuinely am. My heart is hammering against my chest. As I bit on my bottom lip, lost in thoughts of dreadful consequence to them, and fidget with my fingers as my hand shook, I felt as if my eyes were about to burst into tears.

"Hey," Aaren says in a gentle, amiable tone. He placed his hand on top of mine and I watch as my hands slowly stop shaking as he gave it a good squeeze, "I may not know what's going through your mind but it'll be all right. Just don't think about it too much."

If only not thinking about it was as easy as it is said but I nodded my head anyway as I caught up with my breathing and felt myself slow down and relax. I ended up falling asleep on the way home.