I am so, so unhappy.
I almost wish I hadn't gone to the emergency room with Aaron today. I almost wish I'd just let myself die.
I don't fucking feel good. I don't even feel good enough to get up and go to the damned bathroom. How am I supposed to feel good enough to survive this chaos?
Went to the emergency room. Waited. Waited. Waited some more. Got escorted into a room, accompanied by Aaron...
Started to cry when Aaron left the room to check his cell phone messages. Alone in a hospital. Not even my mom there with me. No Norman -- he went to a remote cabin for four days with two cute girls. Nobody there except Aaron, and Aaron wasn't there when they stuck a needle in my arm and drained me of approximately five gallons of blood... I thought maybe Aaron was the only one who even cared if I lived or died.
When you're sick, all you want is someone to be there, to keep you from slipping off the edge of your illness, even if it's just an ear infection or something. I was scared and lonely and the fucking horrendous cop-movie Aaron had put on wasn't doing the trick...
They took blood. They gave me a little red pill. They made me drink something green that made my entire mouth and throat go numb. They gave me water. The pain didn't go away, but I suddenly got hungry again. Ravenous.
Hour pass. Literally.
Aaron flags down a nurse. She shrugs and says she doesn't know anything.
I advise Aaron to pull out a twenty and wave it around to get attention. It always works if you do that at the Lost Dog.
I'm so tired... I can't even concentrate on the movie. I have no idea what's happening. I'm embarrassed that I can't even keep up with a fucking TNT movie. Maybe it's Alzheimers. Maybe it's a chemical imbalance. Maybe I should just fucking die. Aaron kept me updated on what's happening. I treid not to let him see how far behind I was: "Wait, that's... the guy who's dad got killed?" Aaron answered without noticing I was asking stupid questions.
Hours pass. Aaron and I steal some hospital equipment. Four barf-pans (they make great gifts if you put jelly-beans in them), a urine-sample bottle, and a clear plastic bag marked "biohazard: specimen bag."
The doctor comes in. "You have mononucleosis." She's paged over the intercom system and rushes out again.
Hours pass.
The doctor returns. "No contact sports," she says. "No working until your doctor says so."
If I can't work, I don't have a job. If I don't have a job, I don't have money. No money, no apartment. No apartment, Helena's homeless. Helena's homeless, Helena's friend Brian can't visit her here... Helena's friend doesn't visit her, Helena goes into a despondency that makes her wish she hadn't gone to the damned emergency room in the first place. Helena wishes she'd just died without bothering to try to will herself back to life when everything around her has just crumbled into tiny little bits...
It's the end of the world. It's absolutely the end of the world.
I have a fever. I'm crying.
About the only thing that hasn't crumbled into little bits is Aaron... Thank gahd for this dude... I swear I would have let myself die if he hadn't dragged me over to the damned hospital. And I swear, I might just let myself die now except I know he won't let me die without having sex with him, which would just be too weird, and I'm too tired and miserable to have sex right now...
What a weird reason to want to live.
At least it's something.
I don't have anything else left.
~H.T.*
"This is the end of the world..." --Poe.