Summer Nights

I.

7.20.14

Why are people so careless? Do some people chose to be ignorant? This place is dreadful, an awful place of pastel wallpaper with gold detail and birchwood furniture. The nurse forgot that I was allergic to peanuts and had prepared a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. I also hate pb&j sandwhiches but that wasn't the problem. She forgot I am allergic to peanuts. It depressed me at the thought that you'd expect your own nurse to be aware of your health conditions. I know it was an honest mistake and she was sincere when she apologized immediately took the plate back. Before she left she wanted to make it up to me and asked me what I wanted to eat. I picked up the Jello-O cup she left on the table and told her I wasn't hungry.

Anyway, today marks the day my three weeks here. I don't like to share much during my therapy sessions or at share circle or participate in patient activities, so last week, Dr. Simmons suggested I write. At first I thought how absurd it would be to keep a diary; it seemed so sixth grade material.

"A journal doesn't necessarily mean it's a dairy", Dr. Simmons insisted.

My assignment is to keep a " journal" and write about my feelings, what my day consisted of or anything that I want. Seems like a diary to me. Sometimes I don't even know if Doc knows what she's saying, but here I am guiding the ink into words on the first page of the journal she gave me.

I have no idea what to write, sorry Doc. But I'll try. Maybe I'll fill these pages with complaints... or poems... or just random stuff.

Today I took a walk in the garden and I noticed new people but I didn't want to approach anyone. Hey, do you ever feel like you understand people and what or why they do the things they do? Like you understand their actions in response to things? I do all the time. This depresses me because I see more than just the big picture, I notice the small detaIls and unnecessary things sometimes too. I feel like Daisy Buchanan. Only I'm not married and theres no scandalous affairs going on (not anymore at least). I just know or see more than anyone would bother to know.

Like the other day, that guy who talks to Dr. Simmons after my sessions the one who rolls his eyes a lot, I know he acts like he's too cool because he thinks that his reputation matters so much. It's all an act I can just tell. The other day I caught him giving his napkin to some girl who was crying about her dinner. He was probably shy once and no one took much notice of him.

Maybe that's why no one gets me because I point out the least obvious things. When I crack on-the-spot jokes, no one gets them because they never noticed that part of the subject. Maybe I'm just geeky. My humor is too dry for people to understand. Although I appreciate those who actually get it and laugh.

Mother hasn't called me since the end of my first week here. I don't suppose I can blame her, I guess I'm just feeling nostalgic. She did forward a package to me from the house. I can tell by the overlapping stickers that she placed over the original return and shipping address labels. I tried peeling off the label that replaced the original ones but I ended up peeling the top layer of it and couldn't make out a name. Anyway, I'll ask her when I get the chance to.

I put the package on the floor at the end of the bed and lay on top of the thin comforter. It felt cool and I laid on my back for thirty minutes and dozed off. When I woke I rolled over to my side feeling gross. The window was closed and the air was off. I get up to open the window and breath in the salty summer breeze for a little before I shower. On my way back I jammed my toe on the corner of the bed frame and tripped over the box. Angry, I kicked the damn thing under the bed and mourn for a minute for my temporarily-dead toe.

I was so pissed I ended up laying back on the bed and knocked out again. I had the effects of over-sleeping hitting me. If I sleep over nine or ten hours, I'll live the rest of the day tired and fatigue. When I did finally wake up again, I turned on my back and laid there for another half hour. 

At 7:30 the Nurse brought in dinner. Tonight's menu : pulled-pork sandwich with a side of fries and corn and the beverage of the evening, water with lemon. The food served here isn't as bad considering this is the type of scene that "cures"/care for people. 

Once, when Conner was in the hospital, he complained so much about the cafeteria food so much I thought my ear was going to bleed to deaf. Being privileged doesn't mean we always got special benefits. But me and my brother found ways to get around things... So anyway, I finally couldn't stand it anymore and I brought him In-N-out for lunch one day and made him swear to stop complaining if I brought him a decent meal once a day. Sure enough it worked AND I got to take longer lunch breaks from school, with excused notice to be late to sixth period. That was a perk that could be worked around though.

So then after dinner, I got up and take the box to the craft room down the hall. Ignoring stares and people's attempts to greet me, I try my best to sweep by. It kind of depresses me that people actually chose to wear the stiff and crispy outfits this place gives us. The gowns especially. I don't think they know it's optional... Taking out a pair of scissors from the drawer I slide it across the tape. Inside the brown cardboard box there was a jar the size of my palm with sand in it. There was a tag attached that read "The Beaches of the Bahamas".

"What cha- got there?",  a nurse with red wild locks interrupts.

"My mom sent this to me", which technically wasn't a lie.

"How sweet", she smiles before leaving.

"I guess."

I don't really remember telling many people about this but it can only be two people my brother or Sean. Since Conor visited me last night I doubt its from him. I haven't spoken to Sean in three weeks. This doesn't even make sense. Why would I get this from him out of the blue? Maybe I have some creepy stalker who's trying to be the "only" man in my life by sending me all these personal things and eventually "rescuing" me out of this hell hole. Which wouldn't be so bad... the getting me out of here part... the rest I think I'd be held captive for like two days then I'd kick ass and escape. Hmm... I'd appear on the news again...

Oh god, the thought of Sean... 

How depressing...

Whatever.