Waking Up

"Do you want me to admit that I'm crazy?"
"N-"
"Is that what you want?"
"No."

The room was painted a steel gray as if to numb some sort of realization.

"I just want to know what you're thinking."

The ceiling was a lighter shade of gray. The florescent lights glowed a solid, transparent white.

"That's a hard demand."

Pause.

"I know."

He was sitting in what appeared to be a very uncomfortable chair. It almost required one to sit up straight. Leaning back would just let him slip right off. That would be embarrassing.

"That's why we're here"
"Is it?"

The other being in the room laid on a cot with a thin mattress, cranked up so he was eye level with the doctor. He wore a button down shirt, buttoned up the whole way with the exception of the top button. It felt like it choked him.

The doctor was dressed like any doctor that was trying to crack someone's mind. A vest covering a blue, long-sleeved shirt. His hairline was starting to recede. His glasses were hanging off the edge of his nose.

And of course, he had a clipboard.

"Why are we here?"
"You tell me."

The doctor was trying to maintain some sort of authority.

It felt like it was raining outside, even though there was no way of telling. There were no windows and only one door. No observation, no witnesses.

"I think I should be angry. After all, I know I'm not crazy. I've said it before, but that's only going to harden your opinion that in face I am crazy. If I call myself crazy, then you'll just remember that you were right in the first place and wear your smug smiles underneath your stout noses."

"Perhaps you're right. How would you know if you're crazy?"
"I think I would feel it."
"Feel what?"

"I'd feel the dizziness pull itself over me. I wouldn't be able to stop myself from falling into some paradoxical void where I realize how limited life really is."

"Isn't that what brought you here?"

Was the doctor really the patient?

"I'm crazy."

"But are you?"