spectator

spectator

Status: In Progress

Genre: Non-Fiction

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Status: In Progress

Genre: Non-Fiction

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Submitted: March 21, 2017

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Submitted: March 21, 2017

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I sat there in the room it smelled peculiar like a doctors office that smell you can't quite explain. I could hear a gameshow playing on the tv in the corner. In bold print the words please don't change station. I could hear all these conversations going on at once. Mostly older people loudly asking each other to repeat what they said after every sentence. A man in the progress of a call that he unknowingly had on speaker. No one seemed to notice each other. Everyone in there own worlds. They were all there for the same reason. They were in pain. I wondered what caused the pain. With the way there children's generation was I questioned if they all actually had pain. Or were here for medicine to numb there mental pain from there children's actions. Half the people here were probably raising there grandchildren. An older gentleman asked if the seat next to me was taken I replied no even though there were plenty of other open seats. The same questioned was asked to everyone Inssurace card and id medications they were on. I was a spectator but I felt attached to these people. I felt like some were my own grandparents. I questioned if these people had lived good lives. They obviously wanted to continue living why would they try to stop there pain. What could I do to make sure I would never be in the same place as these people were. Was it inevitable.The door opened for the tenth time. I asked if she was ready to go and we proceeded to the car. I should have been studying for my test but I had this notion to observe and write and connect to those around me. It all started with my thought were these people happy and why were they there. -a.n


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