My life for the past week has been spent waiting
for today. Now that it is finally here, all I want to do is curl up in the
corner and cry. If only I remembered how to cry. I want someone who truly knows
me to put their arms around me and remind me of who I am. But I have no one.
Each waking, pain filled second that has passed here; I have looked forward to
being released. To once again have a world beyond this room, to move without
dragging my IV beside me, to lay in the sunlight...to talk to people. Now,
somehow, the prospect terrifies me. I am sure that as soon as they discharge
me, I will walk outside and stand there staring, unable to move. Incapable of
returning to the world. I feel so lost. How can I possibly go back to a life here
when I barely have one? The truth is, there is no one in this city that knows
where I am or what has happened to me. There is no one who I can count as
anything more than an acquaintance. Somewhere, in a small white room, I
forgot how to be lost. Once, the idea was thrilling. Life was comprised of
'scenic detours' and uncharted waters. It was how I thrived. Now, there is
nothing more terrifying. I am still counting down the hours until the hospital
lets me go, but now I am not sure whether it is with excitement or dread. This
is the last place I want to be, but what happens when I have nowhere else to
go?
I
don't remember how to exist...
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