This Chair Is Soft

This chair is soft.
Squishy. My butt is so sunken into it that I don't know if I can get up.

I hate waiting rooms.
I hate waiting.

These wallpaper walls are too peachy for this place.

But that's just my imagination.
I'm really sitting in my bed.
Imagining a doctor's office.
Imagining a waiting room.

Because I'll be there. On Monday,
to see what's wrong with me.

So, in my mind,
I'm trapped in this chair, like I'm trapped in this head.

I'm stuck, getting frustrated, but also
Enjoying the softness of it,
and how familiar it is.

And you know I'm just avoiding
The reality of today (Monday),

And how there's a doctor (Psychiatrist),
who's sitting past that door and how I'll have to go in there.

How he's going to look at me, and just know
that I hate them all, wanting me to be open.
Honest.

And most of all I'm scared.