Anonymous Meeting

I am not here.
Not here, in this room, with these people. I am merely hallucinating, delusional or drugged. That must be it. I would never willingly agree to this. That is a certainty. Why would I humiliate myself in such a manner? Why would I lower my standards to this? It bears no thinking about. But then again, how did I get here?
The room is large, the circle of people on chairs in it is small. A hum of tense conversation filters through this space. Physically, I am within this circle. However, mentally I try to project myself to a better place. Some sandy shore, a cosy pub, the Alps.
To no avail.
The Hum drums my ears, infiltrating my mental retreats. and so instead I focus again on the dingy characters surrounding me. The slim pickings of society. An array of stereotypes and failures. I am one of these. Am I the crone princess to my left? wrinkled , plastered with diamonds that shine so bright they have tarnished the spark within. Or instead, the fleshy man to my right? sides sagging over the child’s school chair. Skin so stretched and drooping no smile can be seen. Not that any of this mottled circle have reason to smile. Myself included.
Although I refuse to believe it, we are all here for one reason. The same reason. We are all here to admit that we are dependent beings, beings that need. To admit that we cannot function as individuals, we have tried, and failed, no doubt numerous times. And so now we are here. Face to face with our own replicas, sitting in this dim room, amidst the stacked tables and chairs. And like us they too have been discarded. Left behind. Forgotten.
The ringleader stands, and starts this evenings proceedings. I name her Joyce. I figure this by the obvious smile, the bright clothes, the patronising empathy. A fitting name for someone who emanates such ‘joy’. I can tell that she is getting some form of pleasure from telling us that we are worthless. She chides us, tells us that if we admit to ourselves that we have a problem we will recover. The first step.
As the meeting stretches on I learn of a mere forty-eight steps that can help me recover. Do they not realise that it is easier to stay like this then be proactive enough to actually undergo a great deal of steps. The too small child’s chair I sit on is starting to make the lower regions of my back ache, so I shuffle and stretch until this pain has marginally subsided . Joyce however takes this as a sign that I have something to say. I don’t, and I haven’t been paying attention so do not know how to answer the question she has just asked the circle. I take a guess, think of a generic answer that would fit such a situation.
“Yes”
She seems startled, I can tell it’s a new expression for her. The Circle stare at me, I have obviously made a faux pas. Great, not only do I have to come to these meeting for many months to come , but I have now alienated myself from any chance I had of making ‘friends’. She stammers. Her sneering smile slips, just for a second. Then returns, even more patronising than before.
This slip in her character reinforces my bitterness for her facade.