The same room, the same bed, the same people.
We were already done being treated just moments ago.
Why did we have to be here, what was even the meaning of life? Suffering?
Apparently, while lying down on the bed in the nurse's office, I was having an existential crisis.
The reason?
"SO, you're saying you won't get married now and would like to experiment first?" Mom asked the girl on the bed right next to mine.
She didn't even bat an eye at me, her own son!
Yeah, definitely an existential crisis. My disappointment was immeasurable and my day was ruined.
But then again my days were already ruined and these stinging wounds were the proof of that. I was wounded from both sides so I couldn't even lie down properly. Life was hell. And then there was the fact that once this painkiller runs out, I'd be sorer than a stiff monkey!