CHAPTER 17 : Daydream

I had been in and out of hospitals for most of my life. I was three years old when I had my first visit. It was the beginning to a long list of hospital stays. My longest stay was when I was ten. I was in the hospital for about three months, before they decided that I was well enough to return home.

I was happy to be going back home, I absolutely despised hospitals. But something about this return home was different. My mom always took extra care of me after my visits to the hospital but this time she was being excessive.

She wouldn't leave my side even for a second. She overloaded my bed with pillows so I'd be comfortable. She constantly asked if I needed anything. At the time I thought it was rather annoying. But I understood her concerns. I wasn't getting better.

I always got better, I'd be sick for a couple of weeks but I always got better. But something about this time told me that I wasn't going to get better. I wasn't ever going to be better. I was dying.