The beeping of the machines I was linked to only increased my state of panic, as a nurse put an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose. It was hard for me to breathe at that point, as I didn't understand what was happening to me. I tried my best to iden...
A/N: hey you guys! I'm so sorry for the wait, work has been crazy lately, so I didn't havemuch time to write. But I'm back! Here's a long chapter for you :) I'm already working on the next one. Hope you'll like it! Much love.
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February 17th, 1993
Dear Diary,
It's been a while now I didn't write in here. I couldn't help it and went through the last pages I wrote, and the last time I wrote something was in July, last year. I wrote about how I missed Michael, but who would have guessed that I'd be the one gone for seven months?
There's so many things I'd like to tell you, Diary, but I don't know if I'm strong enough to empty my head from all the thoughts that has been running in my mind. Not yet. From the months I spent in a coma, to this past week... Everything is so overwhelming and complicated.
Ever since I woke up, I feel like something has changed in me, something that once made me the person I was. Days go by, and the more I think about it, the more I think I know what has changed. My ability has. It looks like it evolved, somehow, for some reason I ignore. I keep having these weird dreams that feel just like I was in a coma all over again, floating between the real world and this sort of alternative reality I was in. All of this is so blurry and confusing, but I am more than determined to know more about what is happening to me, no matter how frightened I am.
What if my gift is gone forever? What if I wasn't able to change Michael's future anymore? What if all these dreams I keep having are just consequences of the fact that I lived with this visions for almost thirty years? What if... what if my ability went away just like my ability to stand on my own two feet?
I would be lying if I said that it's easy for me to keep my head up. It's not. Sometimes I just can't help but tell myself I'm gonna be stuck in that chair forever, that there's just no use in trying anymore. I'm tired of fighting, no matter how bad I want my life back. There's love and support all around me, but I can't seem to want it. Why do I keep pushing everybody around me, Diary?
I lifted my head from my journal as I heard the front door open. Soon, Dr. Fernandez came in the living room where I was, with Carl by his side. It was my eighth appointment with him, and just how Dr. Moseley said it would, physiotherapy was very emotionally and physically hard to go through. Frustration slowly took over me over the sessions, and no matter how many times I was told that it was okay to fail, I couldn't allow myself to do so.
