At my psychiatrist's office, I saw a woman who looks on the outside the way I feel on the inside. It's the second time I've seen her, but it really hit me today.
She came into the waiting room with her head down, and sat in a chair in the farthest corner. Her posture made her back curve and her torso cave in. She had a little purse which she held (both hands) in her lap. Her clothes were ill-fitting, her shoes were old. She never moved. Not a muscle. Her mouth was slightly open, her hair mousy. She looked so all alone and so pained. There was nothing about her that hinted at happiness or satisfaction or friends or hope.
I saw myself today, turned inside out.
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