diagnosis

“Post-Traumatic-Stress-disorder – ” , her eyes glance towards zig zag lines forming inflammed matrices on my wrists , ” – and severe depression ” she sighs .”What do I do with you kiddo?”

“Dunno man – ,” I shrug and continue twirling around in the comfy office chair ” -you’re the dude with a M.D and the fancy white coat, not me . ” 

She laughs and leans forward to mess up my hair .

” Do you want to get admitted ?”

Twirling stops .

“Even you think I’m crazy ?”, I whine dejectedly .

“No, not crazy , just a very hurt child “,she sighs.

“Not a child “, I huff in mock anger. 

Though despite that declaration of adulthood I couldn’t resist asking ” I will be allowed to bring my video games there- ”

” –and your school books too, ” she says in a teasing tone .

“Party pooper .”

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