Snowfall

Actually I have to wonder why anyone would be here. Is it worse to be put here or put yourself here? Anyway, I think I'll have a cigarette. I sit in line silently, receiving odd looks from the older patients. I don't join in on any of their groups or therapy sessions unless it is enforced and in that case, I am silent. They probably think I'm some sort of psychotic nutcase...I look at the gangly, dark-haired man in the corner of the room who has had several incidences of attacking and biting people. This makes me wonder, again.
I do notice, however, that none of the younger patients seem to judge me in the same manner. I think we all mutually understand that, frankly, this sucks. Mel makes eye contact with me briefly as she exits the smoking room and the next group walks in. I nod to her, watching Matt as he sits down in the last chair, joining the line again.
I have to interact with this person. That is my goal; the reason I cut short my phone time with my parents, my only key to the outside world. So I'll do what anyone would do. The next group gets up and I move to the back of the line, letting a woman in a weird hat, who's name I can't remember, cut in front of me. She smiles and nods to me before walking in.
"Hey, Alex." Matt grins.
"Matt." I reply awkwardly. Get it together, I think, sitting in the seat next to him. This is as close as I have purposely been to another person in a while; our arms are touching. How pathetic I sound, but this thought crosses my mind. This is the extent of our conversation. We sit quietly waiting for the smoking group to finish.
I finish two of my menthol cigarettes before I walk out and as soon as I do, I feel the room spinning, I lose my balance and everything goes white.