January 5, 2015 4:44 PM
I saw Dr. Burgoyne today. She said I was getting better and that I should still come in for checkups every three months. I told her I would even though I knew I was lying. As I was leaving the hospital, I saw Mike and he looked unhappy. Mike's a nice boy with long blonde hair and sad blue eyes. He saw me and waved. I waved back and told him he was looking even more handsome than the first time I saw him. He seemed to not believe me, but thanked me anyway. As I was exiting the hospital, I said goodbye to the nurses. They love me. I don't know why though.
Just as I walked out the sliding doors, I was greeted by my brother, Arthur. He told me that he'd been waiting to take me home when I was finished up at the hospital and I told him it was a silly thing to do. He should've waited in the car, seeing as it was almost 9 degrees Fahrenheit outside. He just shrugged his shoulders and led me to the car. The car ride home was quiet. I could tell Arthur didn't want to bother me with any questions about what the doctor had said or when I would get to stop seeing her. So, I answered for him.
"I'm getting better. That's what Doctor Burgoyne says. Healthier. I have to see her every three months though until I get completely better," I said. Arthur just looked at me. He didn't say anything. Just kept driving. He was relieved though, I think. Relieved that I was getting better.
When we finally got home, our mother kept asking me if I was hungry and what the doctor had said. I politely turned down her offer of food and repeated what I had said to Arthur in the car. She seemed satisfied with what the doctor had said, but insisted that I eat something. I told her that I wasn't feeling too good and that I ought to lie down. She didn't believe me, but decided not to push it any further.
I came upstairs because I wanted to listen to some music and maybe draw, but I decided to write in here instead. Part of my therapy I suppose. I guess I'm not really complaining about therapy or anything because I appreciate the fact that people care about me, but I wish I didn't have to deal with all of it. That sounds silly. I know. I just want to be normal though. I don't want to have to see a doctor all the time or see a therapist. I just want to be like everyone else. Ironically, that's what got me into this mess in the first place. I'm going to stop writing now. I'm going to listen to music.
i really hope this was good & you liked it