The second of my “Edmonds Entries” where I share my journal entries from my time in treatment.

In the chairs we wait, as the lobby becomes fuller. I feel my body shrinking, my mind outside the doors. As I scan over the town, I find I’ve landed in a place far-off. Strange in every sense of the word. The buildings are tight and squished in love, like cookies in a sleeve, and the night seems to fall over into day without apology. The hallways twist and turn to ask you where you are, and the sidewalks slant wherever the streets take them.

It is a strange scene, and those who occupy its lungs are fit for its breath. They crash into your lap as you pass them on the town, reach to kiss your hand and show you their tattoos. 

But no one watched me eat or rummaged through my waste. So I’m sat up in my room, waiting out the rustle, listening to learn.