I feel worse as I wake up, the pain not bearable.
I want this to end. I consider doing something, as I feel worse.
They tell me it’s the side-effects. I want to sleep, but they hold my eyes opened, telling me to hold myself conscious at least an hour.
I don’t get any visitors asides from my crying parents, wondering how come I was here. They make me feel worse. I ask, I write the nurse to keep them outside when I’m conscious as I feel sick watching their tears dry out as new ones fill their eyes.
I curl awake for an hour, feeling better, before I get another dose of whatever it is. I feel my body burning, but I feel better. I feel numb as I stare into the window, not making out the clouds, but just stare into the blue gray mix, wondering if it will surround me from now on
Day Twenty Six