Letters of Unconciousness

1st Hour

~ Gabriella ~

Dear Nate,

These letters might seem a little ridiculous and a waste of time but when you're in the hospital close to 24/7 there is lots of time to waste. Before I get into anything I should probably explain these letters. So right from the very start I was told it was a good idea to get a diary and to write anything whenever I had nothing better to do. They said that when I recover my story will become an inspiration, that was if I chose to write about myself. It took a bit of convincing and five diaries later that I finally decided to start writing. It was still within the first month of losing weight, therapy and recover for something we didn't even know. The five diaries came from family members who knew I loved to write. I didn't like the first four and secretly that was one of my reasons for not writing anything. When the fifth diary came it was just calling to be written in and I really sound like a dork right now. But I'm going to continue so suffer.

The first diary I received was like a boring black leather one with days and the year. It was more like a planner or a school diary rather than the journal I would prefer.
The second diary was the same.
The third looked the same from the outside but in actual fact it had blank lined paper filling the inside. Although it was inviting and I did want to write something it wasn't a starting point.

The fourth diary was more of a joke gift from my Dad. Pink with fluffy material and feathers and sequins and a little lock with a key. He bought it just because he knew someone would have too eventually. I will admit it did bring a big grin across my face.

Later that same day my Dad came back to the hospital to pick me up and he held a brown paper package tied with a simple brown string. It was so old fashioned that I was intrigued immediately. When he gave it to me I was so careful to unwrap it. I didn't make a single tear. Unwrapping the gift I was so excited to find what was inside even if it was another fluffy pink diary. The mystery was killing me. When I finally got to the gift within in was a maroon red colour. Clean leather spread across the exterior. With a dirty silver latch holding the open part of the book shut. The bindings so perfect and the pages within a perfect white. It was like the old fashioned journals and immediately I had the urge to fill the pages with words and paragraphs about anything that was anything. Mind you this was way back at the start in October last year.

I went home that night and sat at my desk thinking of how to start my journal and in true Gabriella style I started it with, "I have no idea how to start this. So hi I'm Gabriella and I am going to be writing my life or whatever whack thoughts come into my mind." Everything seemed to just flow from there on. Within the first page you had already featured simply because you texted me asking where I had been these past couple of days. I remember that text so vividly because I almost had a mental breakdown. I had no idea how to reply and no idea how to brush it off. I was freaking out, then you text me again saying I know you've read it so now you have to reply. I was so unsure and lost and worried and scared and just couldn't tell you or anyone to save myself. So I brought down everything I was feeling into my journal and all the possible things I could reply before picking the best one. The one reply which you will never ever let me live down, 'I've had a bad cough and to be frank I couldn't be less bothered with school to save my life.'

You never let me forget that reply because you said it was so unlike me. It was in my wording but it wasn't something I would say. But you never pried. No matter how much you bagged me about my reply you never pried to find out what I was avoiding saying. It helped me not feel as guilty as I could. And that's where the secrets started. I wasn't going to tell people I was sick, if they asked I wouldn't lie but if they didn't notice I wouldn't ask them too. I decided then and there in my journal that I would play this sickness out and when I got better I would use it as inspiration for my friends. If they were in a bad place I hoped my story would help them put on a brave face and soldier on. But then it got out. I suppose I was being very hopeful when I thought I could just ride this out and no one would know. But at that very early point I had no negative thoughts or doubts. I had complete faith and belief in the doctors, the hospital and my strength. So did the people around me that actually knew. I saw no point in worrying people.