paragraph seventeen.
Woke up to what felt like Death fighting God for his rights to me. Misery was more than my acquaintance that day and she wanted to share my company with no one. I’ve never been a fan of hospitals. I don’t trust doctors, especially now that I’ve been educated with some of our future physicians. It doesn’t help that I can see through empathy either; its two parts pity, one part friendship, and a whole lot of lying in at least one direction. Who needs any of that? I was content just being alone in that room. So I prayed. I asked God for the strength to fight the pain, or at least the motivation to. And a few moments later I realized something profound; God was a fan of bad romantic comedies.
Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente, y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca. Parece que los ojos se te hubieran volado y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca
Pablo Neruda
