Friday 3rd April 2009

Hmm, how do I begin this?

I'm not really a diary writer, I never have been and I've never seen the need to before. I used to think that only girls wrote diaries, but the events of this week have changed something in me, and I need to organize my thoughts, I need to confide externally. Girls have it easy that way; it's acceptable for them to go with their best girlfriend and have a good cry over a coffee or at home with a meal. Things may be changing slowly but society still says that boys don't cry. Things have changed for me, and I don't know yet whether it's for the better or for the worse. Perhaps in time, I can look back on this and see where things have gone so wrong. Were it not for Teegan, I'd have no-one to confide in at all. But even with her, there are limits; she is such a delicate perfect flower which I need to be protecting, not the other way around. It should be me keeping her safe, rather than needing to be looked after.

So this is why I'm writing this to you. OK, I'm not going to do that again; this is an inanimate page, just a record of my thoughts, not a fantasy friend.

Well, I'm getting a bit sick of this hospital now, I've apparently been here over a week now, and even though I was out cold for a lot of it, I'm still bored out of my mind. The same four walls with their faded, damp-stained green paint, the same ceiling tiles that were once white which no-one has bothered to clean for years since it's too much of an effort to get there.

I need to get out of here.

I had a showdown with the doctor last night. She means well, I'm sure but she wanted to keep me here until I'd eaten solids, proved I could mobilise into a wheelchair and undergone a mental assessment. A mental assessment?? I'm not the psycho, she should talk to the guy who put me here! Fortunately, Teegan came in at that stage and brought me some donuts. Check. I then nearly killed myself doing some moves from my days as a gymnast - handstand pushups. Yes, that was OTT but I wanted to show her that I could not only mobilise but freakin' do gymnastics too. Not that she was fooled entirely - it completely shattered me to do that, and I crawled back into bed and was asleep almost immediately after that. But it proved my point, check. She's not happy still but I think she has to accept that I'm fine. I really am, and I don't need a mental assessment. She even signed my release papers and I'm going home later today, just waiting for Teegan to come to pick me up.

So why is it that I don't feel happy?

P.S. if later I read this and I wonder why my handwriting is so awful, it's because my hand is bandaged heavily from where that psycho used pliers to rip my nail off.