Journal entry 1
November 29
So far my life sucks. But I have learned that that's ok. In case you forgot again, you my dear Haven, were in a car accident when you were 17. Poor you.
Don't pity yourself, that's not healthy, but try to remember who you were.
I really shouldn't be saying anything, because I'm too impatient to try to remember.
As of current, your family doesn't care for you. Only your stupid old boyfriend, who probably came just to get your sympathy. He was most likely the reason this happened to you. To us.
Read Dr.Seuss. I have enjoyed his childlike humor, but he has inspired me.
You are in pretty good shape for the shape you are in, Seuss once said. Live by positivity, no matter how low or high you are.
I set down my book. Sighing, I flicked through the tv. I knew that Mimi wanted me to go out, but I didn't feel the need. I did agree on searching other parts of the hospital. I got up and put on a blue robe.
Shuffling out of the door, I searched the halls. Today I decided to go right and up the stairs, into the special care unit. It might have been wrong to go see those worse than me. Guilty pleasure bubbled inside of me.
In the special care unit, nurses buzzed. in the hall ways. This unit was much more active than mine. I walked around and saw many people on ventilators that blinked brightly from inside the windows of their rooms. I searched through the plaques that were beside doors. Many doctors I didn't know, or only heard of vaguely. Apparently, none of these people would be coming to the children's sector. Great, I wouldn't have to be social soon. But then, Dr. Gringold's name appeared in white, shiny, plastic letters. I peeked into the room. A guy lay in another white hospital bed. I could see his brown hair in tufts across his pillow. I examined the rest of the room.
The boy didn't have any machines hooked up to him except for an IV. Also, there were no nurses watching him. This meant he would most likely be coming into my sector soon. Very soon. His plaque read that his name was Dalton. I smiled at the thought of having an actual child in the child's sector.
I moved on from that and went back downstairs and to the left. I wanted to meet this kid. I wanted him to remember me as. I wanted to make an impact. I would see him very soon, possibly tomorrow. What would I say to him?
Thoughts over whelmed my mind of our conversations. But most of them required real memories. I suppose that was my disadvantage.
