I'm so scared and frustrated right now.
The vicodin doesn't work very well.
I've eaten three pieces of bread in the last three days because I don't want my stomach to hurt worse or vomit blood.
I can't sleep very well.
We sat outside on the curb, underneath that ugly yellow streetlamp. Like we did most nights spent at my house.
I took a shaking breath in and he held me closer, more gently. Another hard breath, blink away the tears. "I love you," I whispered.
He frowned ever so slightly, he was fighting tears, too, I think. His fingers toyed with my hospital band. Lowered his cheek to my mine, his lips to my ear.
"I love you."
Fuck. I need sleep.
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Super cool.
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