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Please.

...

The nurse came into my room armed with a sponge.

“Good morning Sean.” She said. Today the phrase is an oxymoron. My arm is aching in pain, my head feels like, I feel slightly feverish, and I feel extremely weak. Slowly adjusting my eyes to the new light, she persists in talking to me. “Today we need to run a few tests before we can release you. You lost a lot of blood last night.” I sigh and roll my freshly awakened eyes.

Today is going to suck.

...

After a series of tests, a sponge bath, and many new bandages, the nurse escorts me to my room for the night. They each (the doctors) told me not to worry, that I’m okay, and that everything was going to be fine.

I just tried to kill myself, why do people think I want to be “okay”?

My mother had come in the middle of the sponge bath, as did Hilary. They were worried about me again, thought I might have needed someone to talk to.

I really wish they would go away. I don’t want them here. I just want to be alone.

Its embarrassing. It really is.

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