The child is dead, the dream is gone

Think of a girl walking around somewhere in the city center. She has got very nice clothes, her hair is neatly combed. But that isn't the first thing you notice. She has a strange detail about her. She is caring a soda bottle with some daffodils in it. Of course, the soda has been replaced with water. But this isn't the first thing you notice. Tears keep pouring down from her face. She's in pain. This is the first thing you notice. But for some sick, inhuman reason you don't stop to comfort her. You try to avoid the eye-connection at any cost. You have your problems as well, you think to yourself. You are curious to know what has happened to you. Nevertheless, you just keep walking. Not my problem, you think to yourself.
And me? I keep walking as well. Until I can't think of anything anymore and I just become paralyzed. I walk past people whom I know from somewhere. I'm sure they would comfort me, but that's the last thing in the world I need. I feel that they are fake in a way. I do not mean to offend anyone, it's strictly my problem. They are not really fake in your world, just in my world. Eventually, I'm so hurt that I just stare at the road. Luckily one real person passes by and stops. My classmate. He asks me why I'm so sad. He is not phony, I tell him what's on my mind. He offers to wait for my bus. We talk. He is truly from another world, that is the reason he cheers me up. He doesn't talk much, but he's there. He cares. He is real. He understands.
The girl with the soda bottle filled with daffodils dries her eyes and gets on her bus. There is going to be many hard days like this, she thinks to herself. She also knowledges to herself that she needs to choose the people around her carefully. This is not a time for giving, this is a time for receiving.
I love people too much. I assume they won't hurt me. Maybe it's my problem. Maybe I'm too sensitive. A crybaby. Maybe I'm just naive, I still believe in the beauty of people.
The girl with the daffodils wishes her birthday would be over already. She hates this particular day.

Unaccustomed to such violence

Criticism, such a joy-killer. Well, I needed pain-killers. I'm not talking about medicine, I'm talking about people. I'm talking about the lack of empathy I experienced. Maybe I have too immature friends to care about serious things. Oh no, don't get me wrong, I had some very pleasant surprises as well, from the people I least expected it. That was nice. Maybe the lack of empathy comes from young age or living a too good life to care. Either way, that's no excuse.
It wasn't my fault that I was the most ill I have ever been. And how the hell was I supposed to know when I'd get better. When you are in hospital, everything changes. You have no sense of time, you are weak. You do as you're told, you eat they liquid food the provide you. This means you lose weight, because you feel even sicker from the hospital food after a day or two. You look in the mirror, you try not to gasp, because you see a dead person looking back at you.
It's hell and you wish someone would understand. Someone you have spent a lot of time laughing with. Eventually the person does call, but all you can hear is laughter and not a touch of empathy. Everything is a joke for these people, life is a joke. You come to the conclusion that you are a joke as well. Your fever rises, the nurse comes with a syringe and shaking hands. You know her type, you think to yourself. It's not you who is afraid of the injection, it's her. But in the end it doesn't even matter, because you are the one who feels the physical pain. This is what they call bittersweet, you think to yourself again.

I'm medicated, how are you? Tomorrow is my Russian exam. Quite frankly, I should be satisfied with any positive mark I get. Antibiotics and brain work don't go together.


I need to talk to someone who is real.

Day 19

People do not understand.

Day 18

It hurts to sleep.

Day 17

I've lost 7 kilos.

Day 16

Got new antibiotics.

Day 15

I killed the TV.