Sliding the glass door and entering, I felt a warm and fresh air, the smell of new papers and cleaned white walls.
A woman was sitting at her bureau, she must be the receptionist i spoke with before.

Dirty blonde hair and green eyes, I could tell she was mid fifties, calm and presentable, typical.

"Good afternoon ms, welcome to healthcare cabinet, how can i help you ?"
She stood as soon as she glanced up from her computer.

She was nice.
Not the nice in work or home, no, she was nice, had great manners, that made feel comfortable.

"... Hi...i spoke with you on the phone earlier.."

" Oh! I guess you're miss kate clarkcson right ?"
She wondered, tapping the keyboard in a quick way.

"Yes, that is me "
I cleared my throat, and stepped closer to the reception desk.

"Please, have a seat. I'll talk to the doctor first, then I will give you a form document, so you should fill it with your personal information"
She grabbed the phone, dialled a short phone number then stared at me.

Seriously, she could've just walk to the patient room upstairs, and talk to him.
I really should stop judging and let the childish side of me control everything.

A smile appears from nowhere when the Dr seems to answer her phone call, she tells him about me, then hangs up, handing me a paper with a black pen.
I directly started filling it, name... phone number...date and place of birth...phone number.

It was easy at first, then came the torture, the hell.

Personal state, single married divorced...
Life accidents that have left any trauma...?
Do you have a job ?

I know that it was my first time here, but seriously, that is one hundred percent not professional.
The question marks were shocking somehow.
But I'd it just me, or this is one of my ways to escape this.

Similar to the devil in me is stopping me, from leaving the hole, trying to escape from the darkness that surrounds me.
But no, I should stop it. Stop it from controlling me.

Or not.

"Ahh...I have to leave...an emergency call from work"
I pretend to get my phone from my bag, still holding the paper in my hand, and refusing to give it.

"What..?!"
The receptionist starts questioning, but I run away like usual.

Instead of facing my fears, challenging my problems and fighting those obstacles in life.
I run.

I hate it.
I hate me for this and that.

But who to joke around, were these normal questions ?
Or it was just me, being stubborn and helpless.

"Miss stay here !"
Before I could leave the receptionist yells from behind.

"I'm sorry, but I said I have an emergency...."
But I didn't finish my line.

"I said stay, until the Dr sees you..."
She starts walking towards me.
"Give me the paper.."

"What the hell ! What kind of nonsense is this ?!
I said I have an..."
I say calmly with a stable voice and straight tone, that shows a little of irritation.

"Give me the paper"
By that I held the paper tight in my palm, that still has my personal information like address and card number, besides other information I wouldn't be pleased if this mad woman, standing in front of me, became aware of.

We both heard a door upstairs getting opened, followed by slow footsteps.
Can I say that I'm starting to freak out now.

I took the chance and go out quickly, faster than light.
I knew this was a bad idea.

I walk faster, I run as a matter of fact, to anywhere, far away from this clinic.

Anger tears crawl down my cheek, tasted salty.

I didn't even know how I reach my home, my legs seemed to just walk their way.
And the pillow was my therapist.
It dried my tears, healed my head aches, and made me sleep.

After a session of crying endlessly, I got up and sat down on the desk.
Unlocking my computer, and entering the podcast app.

do you want to add a new podcast ?

It was my first time.
After buying a microphone and every tool I needed.

I clicked yes.

I noticed the record started counting seconds, and the signals raising every time I make sound while breathing.

"Episode number one, presented by Kate clarkson on 27 September 2020, it's past midnight now, so 28 September"
Was my humor overrated to me, or I was making fun of my miserable condition.

"Ahh..ahh today was a serious image of my unstable condition.... loving me is probably the last thing on my bucket list...so could it be possible if I just ruin everything I have ever built, relations that I would forget someday and dreams I have never achieved....why ?"

"Hah hhh... because of a society I barely recognize, masks have been removed completely...some of the listeners won't understand a word I'm saying.
But believe, I swear to God, even me I don't understand"
I laugh.

"The pressure itself pushed me to do this...maybe it was meant...but it definitely wasn't planned"
"To finish this first episode, I would call it a story, a beginning of the story of my life"

I pause the recorder, stared emptily at the microphone.

Inside or out
You can't get out both ways.

I feel Rockets in my head.
And Mountain on my back.
Crocodile of tears.
With Bloody souvenirs.

And bad conversations.
Not to mention.

I've been haunted by dreams.
Tears and screams.
Stay and rest in peace, Rest in peace my soul.
For ghosts whom I seek, Ghosts I barely know

Forgot all the words even my name.
So I couldn't speak.