The hospital was bright. It almost seemed like a happy place but she could still feel the loneliness and sadness lingering through the ever so fluorescent hallways. As she walked along she passed by room after room. Each one had someone in it, some patients, and some doctors. Only about half of the rooms actually had a doctor in them, while the rest of the rooms only had patients waiting for the doctor to show up. One of the rooms had a toddler in it. The little boy just had his first shot. He started crying and sobbing. She remembered what it felt to cry like that. That sob where you just didn’t care who heard you or what actually happened. It wasn’t all about what had just happened…it was a way of getting out all the anger and frustration, and even sadness that you had built up inside you. It made you feel almost powerful but you knew that no matter what you did your mommy would always pick you up, rest you on her hip, and bounce slightly up and down and side to side in order to make you calm down. You knew she would jump off a cliff for you, and you enjoyed that feeling. The doctor leading her to the room that she would soon be in continued talking to her and asking her questions about her summer as if she actually cared about making her feel like she belonged in the hospital, even though she knew she never would. It wasn’t that she thought no one wanted her there; it was that she didn’t want to be there, ever, ever again.