"I understand you're aware that you blacked out today, Clive?" the doctor asked, looking over some papers. I could just imagine him reading my records and them saying some shit like "beyond all hope." I hate how in the professional world they talk so condescendingly; they always say crap like, "Unfortunately, you do not fit our criteria." Just say you don't like me; I can handle honesty.
"Yes, my roommate told me about it actually," I replied uncomfortably, shifting in my seat. I swear the chair felt like it was made of stone; it felt terrible no matter where I sat.
"I've seen cases of multiple personalities before, but never one where the person blacks out. To be safe, we should prescribe you something," he replied, trying to smile supportively.
Whatever they put me on will just be a waste, anyway.
"What will you put me on?" I asked anxiously. Being put on pills nearly guaranteed that I would overeat or be tired all the time.
"Sertraline. Not only will it help get your system in order, but it can also help you with anxiety. My only warning is that it can aggravate suicidal ideations in certain people."
How ironic...
"What dose are you prescribing me?" I asked, hoping that the Sertraline would work for me.
"50 milligrams for a start. Take one tablet per night before sleeping."
"I will. Is this it?" I replied, eager to get out of his office; hospitals scare me, to be honest.
"Yes, you may go now," he replied, sensing my impatience.