because I care (but mostly to bother English) here's one of my writing exercises, which I did while waiting at the doctor's office today. Basically, I start writing about my surroundings and then let a little slice-of-life flow from it. It's not necessarily the truth, but it's fun to write. Shoot it down, if you want, make fun of it, beat it with a stick, just be honest. Let it give you something to talk about. ThatÂ’s all I ever ask.
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I sat alone in the waiting room of the doctorÂ’s office. I was waiting, of course, thereÂ’s little else to do in such rooms. And as I waited, I watched. Watched the people, living their simple lives, unaware of the intrusion, unaware of the slow, steady decline, the movement of the clock that signaled the end. They couldnÂ’t hear it tick, but I could. It rang out to me, counting the hours, the minutes. And still I waited.
The time would come soon, I knew it would. There was no denying it any more than denying your very existence. You could debate it all you want, but it wouldnÂ’t change the fact. These people were soon to die. Their time would come.
The room was pale, simple green wallpaper and upholstered furniture to match. The atmosphere was the gloom of boredom. I knew what was wrong with me, but still I waited, waited for the doctor to come out and somberly take me to the back room, waited for him to grope clumsily at the proper words.
He would tell me the results looked grim, he would tiptoe around the issue, until I told him to give it to me straight. Then he would remark with sorrow, “Mr. Burch, you are going to die. I give you maybe three months.” He would say three months, even though it’d be closer to six. I’d hold out, obstinate, refusing to let go to a life or pain in exchange for the petty release of death. The doctor would put me on different medications, increasing the pain under the hope of a cure.
I heard my name called. It pulled me from my thoughts, just as the doctor pulled me from the waiting room and into an exam room.
“Give it to me straight, doc. How much time do you give me?” I enquired, not wanting to deal with his bull****.
“Well, Mr. Burch, that depends on how you play your cards.”
“Assuming I follow your advice. How long? How long, damn it?”
“If you eat right and maintain a healthy regimen of exercise, I’d give you fifty, maybe fifty five more years.”
“What?”
“You’ve made a full recovery, Mr. Burch. You have a new lease on life.”
There are no other days I can look on with such pleasure as that day. I listened, but the clock had stopped.

Not my cup of tea, I like Sci-Fi better, but it was well written

very nice man! true? ifso, what was wrong?

Quote: Originally Posted by -=XPS=- very nice man! true? ifso, what was wrong?

nope, I was just in the waiting room waiting to get my allergy shot.

THen I whipped out the laptop again and watched Amadeus while I waited to see if I'd have an allergic reaction to it.

lmao