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Have you ever noticed how terribely bleak hospitals are? The floors, walls, equipment, and furniture all white and hard. Pictures are hung on the wall, ones you might find in a nursey. But the joy and warmth of childhood that pulsates from their wooden frames is sufficated by the icey temperature that cuts through the air. Everything seems as if their emotion has been washed away, like a heartless sea smashing repeatively against a rock. Eventually, that rock will disapeer into the waves, never to be seen again. There is a major deprivement of windows, and were the windows are, blinds are pulled down over them. The floresent lights seem to scream down on you as the docotor talks, his words like lead in the air. They fall hard on the ground and echo through the stirle enivorment. They don't really seem to care. They are like stone, emotionless and cold. Frost seems to generate from there very touch. They make you fear what you do not know, and then reassure you with medications. To bad he tells you the possible side effects that could occur, launching you once again back into an unscure state of mind. Refuse, you die. Take the pills, you die. Either way you die in thier cruel game. But take small joy, not all doctors are so. And many are only this way when they step into that white coat.