I'm waiting for my friend to pick me up so we can visit her sister (a good friend of mine, too) at the hospital.

She was in a bad car crash last week. Her right arm, left collarbone and ribs are broken. She was going to be moved to an assisted living facility tomorrow, but the doctors found out that she's bleeding internally. Her lung is punctured. They're cutting her chest open this afternoon to fix it.

I am a bad friend because I haven't visited her yet. Why? Hospitals are a major trigger and I can't handle being inside one for more then ten minutes.

Her birthday is Tuesday.

Her best friend left for college a thousand miles away last Monday.

Her life has gone to shit in a matter of days and I'm too caught up in my own melodramatic bullshit to be there for her.

I can't sleep. I can't eat. I wish I could take her away to the beach and read Weetzie Bat to her while feeding her fruit and chocolate.

I'm writing about this like it'll make everything better, like my words will keep me from coming home and crying and slicing my skin. I'm writing like my words will heal her.

I am a bad friend.

<<< TOP >>>