Hearing

It’s raining very hard. Just right for a nap. I assume I am laying here in the dark, just frozen in time. There is commotion outside of my door, I hear the next shift of nurses come into the wing. But one nurse insists on wearing the squeakiest shoes, she’s my favorite. Listening for her shoes gives me something to look forward to. Squeaky shoes mean nighttime, there are less needles then. I keep track of the voices I hear, it helps keep track of the days. Concentrating on the days passed helps me keep my mind active, either that or I just feel a slight buzzing. I assume this sound is me sinking away from everyone else. Being in limbo feels like sinking, being alone feels like sinking. Yes, I am definitely sinking, though I am not sure if it’s quickly or slowly. The days go by with a routine. Luckily each day of the week has a different feeling to it, but somehow that doesn't seem to make them less monotonous. There is a punctuation to each day which keeps me going, though I cannot see the sun going down each day, I know it and the sunset will always be there are greet me.

Learning

The sun is merely for heat now, light doesn't penetrate this dark place. This is a fact. I have learned many facts in this whole experience, one is that unfortunately it turns out existential crisis’ aren’t only for those who can see the pain of life.

Knowing

Sundays, when the new week starts, there is a stillness, even to those who aren’t religious, it seems like a holy day. This is the day my sister comes to see me, she sits with me for an hour, sometimes a bit longer. We might sit in silence, she might talk about her week. I think she prefers such a one-sided conversation, she always has a lot to say.

On Mondays my nurse changes the sheets on my bed. I don’t know her name, but I always love when she comes around. She has a warmth about her, I can see her heart through my closed eyes. She is one of the best pillow fluffers, and her hands are always warm. She talks to me too. Pity doesn’t ooze from her, I enjoy the change.

The weeks goes on just the same, a wash, a change, a pillow fluff, a pair of squeaky shoes, but on Fridays, you see, the nurses do things differently when it’s a Friday. Faster I would say. Giddiness is in the atmosphere, I feel it too. Because of course the faster you work the earlier you  get to leave. But it’s a well deserved break I would say.

Realizing

These people who care for me, they can't help me wake up. But I hope I inspire them to wake up, from repetitious lives, and harboring unexperienced dreams. They make me realise I can be anything, do anything, but it hinges on the chance of me opening my eyes, speaking a word, giving a smile. I finally believe what my mom used to tell me when I was scared of someone under my bed or in my closet, it is all going to be fine.