the random shit in the notes of my phone

white walls and watching eyes

I hate seeing you like this. You don't belong here. You should be home, living your normal life. Going to church on Saturday nights, then to the local RSL with your friends. Like you used to. The normal routine is broken.
We've missed your throaty laugh, now it's more like a hoarse whisper.
I hate seeing you like this.
It hurts me. It affects me through my daily life.
The contrast is unbelievable, from a happy, cheerful, passionate woman, to a withered old lady, wrinkled and skeleton-like, a sunken face.
Seeing you looking so pale, hooked up to those tubes, constantly pumping chemicals into your bloodstream.
Those soul-less nurses and assistants working off practicality, they don't really care, they just want the money.
They don't give you your medication on time, making you worry.
You are always worried for your safety because in the next room is a criminal, there are two policeman sitting outside his door at all times.
When we come to visit, it is the highlight of your week.
You try to act like you are happy here, and everything is going to be ok, but we all know you are going downhill, slowly but surely. We miss your ability to take care of us.
We miss your games we would play with the cousins, you taking charge as the leader, teaching us nursery rhymes, poems, hymns and teaching us about God, telling us the countless stories of when you were young, the stories of our Aunties' childhoods.
We miss your little old house we used to visit so often, now Grandpa lives there alone. Sad and lonely.

But here you are.
Laying in the white sheets, helpless.

Wheezing as you gasp for air.

Climbing up the unforgiving ladder of dementia, you can't even remember our names anymore.
You're stuck in the hospital, a place full of white walls and watching eyes.