By Sight

I'm sitting in a cafe, across the intersection from where I watch you drive into town. It's the closest I ever get to you.

In the ER

I went into the ER on Thursday looking for answers which, perhaps, was the wrong reason.

No answers came.

He was a bald man, skin spotted by the sun on his head and arms, and he sat down on the chair next to me, saying the ER doctor was convinced I was not safe, and needed hospitalization.

I said, "That's his opinion."

The psych-tech from county said, "What do you think?"

"If I wanted to be hospitalized, I would have went to STanford or Cottage."

He didn't say it, but he asked himself, "What is she doing here?" "You can talk to Mobile Crisis over the phone, and someone will come out to where ever you are. You don't have to come to the Emergence Room unless you feel like you just have to be somewhere safe right then."

I already knew that, but in the ER the pressure in my brain decreases. I can't explain it. IT has a calming effect.

"I don't know what you expected. I can't help you with your problems, just evaluate you for hospitalization, " the psych-tech continued.

I wanted something. Encouragement. Some words of wisdom. Some window to be opened. A light shined in the dark. A hand stretched out to hold onto.

There was nothing for a girl who dreams of driving her car into a tree or telephone pole.