alternate title: a rejected opening for a college essay

There I was, standing at the attending nurse’s doorway, waiting for my nightly dose of melatonin to get me through another sleepless night. I opened my mouth to prove to her I wasn’t hoarding pills for another suicide attempt, and then I turned around to see a familiar face. My best friend, in the same mental hospital as I, sitting just behind a thick pane of glass. I made a face asking why she was here. She read it easily and, in response, smiled glumly as she made a dragging motion with her finger across the thigh I knew to be constantly laden with scars. We both laughed, as only we could.