Bad luck was my best friend at this point. Whether it was hurting myself somehow, things being cancelled last minute, a lot of minor inconveniences or illnesses, things rarely went my way.
I've gotten sick quite a lot over the last few years and at some point I just forgot what it felt like to feel 100% good. But this time was different than the others. Id managed to fight through any major or minor illness I've had but this one was testing my limits. I was exhausted and felt heavy, using every bit of strength I had just to sit up in bed. I wasn't a stranger to ME, having cared for my mum when she had it and honestly wasn't surprised I now have it considering the trauma my bodies been through the last few years, especially the glandular fever I'd gotten about 3 years ago. It's taken its time but it's all caught up to me and mentally, I'm struggling. Not being able to get out of bed for more than a couple minutes without going dizzy and out of breath, walking at an irritably slow pace because my legs are shaky, weak and aching. Not to mention the stress of classes and exams considering I can't make it to them.
My friends aren't sure what to do and honestly neither do I. It's all good saying "take it slow" and "take it one step at a time" but I simply can't. My brain will always skip to the end goal and that's when I get stressed and overwhelmed. I know lying in bed all day won't solve it or make me better, but doing any minor activity feels like I've run a 10k while wearing heavy chainmail and the slightest touch to my skin is so uncomfortable and unnecessarily painful. I want this to end and I want to get better so I can get on with my life, but it's a lot easier said than done.
I hadn't gotten up in 2 days. My friends helped me, bringing me some food and helping me out of bed but they couldn't be by my side at all times and I was sinking deeper into my hole of self pity and frustration. Until, an owl flew through my window holding a letter. With a lot of effort and pushed myself up, gripping the desk for support as I walked to the window, taking the letter before the owl flew away. Only my name was on the front of the envelope in messy but readable handwriting that I didn't recognise. I opened it. The letter wasn't too long and was in the same writing.
"I know things are hard for you at the moment so let me help you. I'll be your motivation, your cure. Take it slow and you'll get there. I know how much you liked the last book I got you, so if you can get yourself outside your dorm today, only to the railing outside your door, I'll get you another.
You're stronger than you think. Im proud of you amore"
I stare at the letter, a million thoughts flowing through my head. I can feel my legs getting very weak beneath me so I slowly head back to my bed to rest, despite the minimal movement. A weird sense of gratitude flooded through me as I reread the letter, despite not knowing who the sender was. I should have been freaked out because whoever this was clearly knew I was sick even though only my friends did. How did they know? Who are they even? Amore? No one had ever called me that endearment but strangely I liked it. "I know how much you liked the last book I got you" that line stood out as I glanced at the mystery limited edition look on my shelf. Whoever paid for that book send me this letter and is offering to buy me more, but why. What are they getting out of this. And the question most prominent, who the fuck is it. A stalker? Admirer?
Maybe my mind is fucked from the amount of dark romance I read because any normal person would be severely freaked out and deterred by this, but instead, it send a warm feeling through me that definitely shouldn't be there. "I'm proud of you amore". I glance over at the door, debating whether to do it, try and get to that railing just outside. Physically, it would be exhausting and I had no idea wether the promise of a new book was real, but that and the kindness of the letter managed to fuel some sort of motivation I'd been severely lacking.
I should throw the letter away, not listen to it, be almost scared by it. But it gave me a goal, and a potential reward. And as weird a situation it was, that's all I needed. And so, I sat on the edge of my bed, feeling silly for having to mentally prepare myself to walk to my own door, but eventually stood, slowly and painfully, gripping the bedpost as I closed my eyes, a sudden dizziness and nausea hitting me. I took my time, and it was a hell of a lot of time, but I started walking.
