I thought my days in the hospital were behind me. My pain was still with me and sometimes it would be enough to bring me to my knees and cry in a corner alone, but I wasn’t going to let that put me back in.
Thankfully it isn’t me this time in the hospital, which honestly I think is worse. Now I get to watch my little sister suffer in a way I am all to familiar with, the cries of ‘I can’t take it anymore.’ still seeming fresh out of my mouth are now coming out of hers.
Then comes the apologies, sorry for everything. It is time to repent and hope that it gets better. Then the pain sets in once more, never truly removed from the start anyway and pleas to make it go away.
Fear, ‘why can’t they help me? What is wrong with me? They think I am crazy!’
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