Would You Still Be There

It has been about a week since I got into the hospital. And I can't say that I enjoy this whole recovering thingy. I don't want to become fat. I want to be skinny. But I am going to recover. Not for myself. For Alan.

The first four days Alan was by my side all the time. He constantly looked worried. But one day, he didn't show up. And he still hasn't. I've been trying to reach him. Text. Call. I've even asked if one of the nurses could go to his place and see if he's there.

I'm sick of laying in my bed. I need to get out. I look down at my now fat legs that I haven't really moved in days. I turn them around and put them down on the floor. Oh gosh. I'm wearing a dress. Or, it's one of those hospital dresses. But it looks horrible.

I start making my way towards the door, not really being able to walk on a staright line. I hate being this weak.

I get out of the room without anyone seeing me. I try walk a bit faster and soon I'm running. I run down the stairs and out of the big front door. I hear someone shout but I don't care. I run towards Alans house, even though it's pretty far away. I need to see him.

My mind starts imagine things that can have happend. He might have gotten a boyfriend and totally forgot about me? His parents could have forbidden him seeing me cause I'm a bad influence. Or maybe.. No. He couldn't be. He can't have done it.


I can see Alans house far in the distance. I speed up and within a minute, I'm there. I don't even knock, I just throw the door up.


I just stare at Alan and suddenly feel like I'm about to faint.

Notes