I Wasn't Expecting

We sit in the emergency room, quiet. Confused. Frustrated. Annoyed. Worried. Not knowing how to address the topic, we begin to avoid it with silence. I look around, hoping that something catches my attention until your name is called once again. I see nothing. I hear nothing. I feel everything.

 

I look over at you once again, wanting so badly to make eye connect. Connection of any sort. Nothing. You’re empty. Oh so it seems. I’m full and ready to burst.

 

I can’t take this anymore. I can’t take these emotions that I’m trying so hard to keep under control. Know how I feel and tell me you feel the same. Speak, cave in. Look at me, speak. Nothing.

 

You’re empty. I’m full, in the process of spilling over.

 

Then I burst. Giving you a huge part of myself.

 

I couldn’t breathe.  “Good thing we’re already in a hospital” I think to myself.

 

I wasn’t expecting to receive CPR without actually receiving CPR. I wasn’t expecting them to care for my wound, that I never had.  I wasn't expecting painkiller, to kill this pain. I wasn't expecting my doctor to look the way he did. 

As we walk out of emergency room together, I think to myself "I got saved, without dying. You saved my life"