-Zade Collins:
Hospitals.
I hate them. I always have.
It's not just the sharp sting of antiseptic that claws at the back of my throat every time I breathe in, or the fluorescent lights that buzz overhead like they're seconds away from short-circuiting, flickering down on every pale face and sterile wall. It's the silence—the kind of silence that isn't silence at all, but is instead full of beeping monitors and the squeak of nurses' shoes on polished floors. The air feels too clean, too artificial, and it presses down on me like I'm drowning. I want out.
