I can almost smell the disinfectant. See the dull grey of the rooms. Hear the monotone of the nurse. Hospitals do that to me. It brings my deepest fears to the fore.
Perhaps it is because I have been in and out of them for a fair share of my growing years. Perhaps it is because I have painful associations with them. Or perhaps it represents loss to me like nothing else.
I fear hospitals. I fear everything about them. The smells, the sights, the emotions. The fears, the hopes, the disillusionment.
Abject surrender. Loss of dignity. A painful reminder that the body is nothing but a vessel.
It comes full circle. Birth and Death. And everything in between.
This is my entry to Day Seventeen of Writing 101 at The Daily Prompt. It asks me to write about my deepest fear.