I wonder if the scar will ever fade. Sometimes when I'm alone in my room- and I'm always alone- I stare at it. Wonder what others think, if ever they happen to catch a glimpse. Usually I keep it covered, hidden, like so many other parts of my life.
I ask myself what you thought, finding me there in the bathroom. How broken and pathetic I must have seemed to you, when all I ever wanted was to be strong enough for both of us. They tell me I should stop writing to you so much, because it's bad for me. I need to let you go, because I'm here and you're there. Shining for everyone but me.
I don't like the doctor very much, even though he smiled and shook my hand. There is something about him that seems off. I know he was judging me the whole time I was in there, with speculating eyes that burned straight through to my soul. If there is such a thing. I asked a nurse if she believed in God, but she said she couldn't talk to me about that.
Anyway, I'm trying to stay positive. Hopefully that will help me to get out of this prison. Then I'll find a way to you. To make you realize that I love you, and I always will. Until then, please try not to lose too much sleep. You always got a little crabby if you didn't get enough.