Three Cups of Coffee Later, Jayke Stone [best books to read in your 20s TXT] 📗

I knew I was in a hospital, that was obvious, but I didn’t know my way out. That scared me.

My phone was sitting on the table next to my bed.

I flipped the lid and turned it on.

The screen lit up, dimly, and I read the words “13th July”I’d been here asleep for over a month...

Why didn’t they just give up me?

I rose my head and looked around.

Everything was white.

There were six beds, three on each side of the room, each with a monitor and a curtain.

There weren’t any windows.

No way to escape but one tiny door...

No one was in the room but me. I guess they didn’t care enough to visit.

For the next ten minuets I amused myself by deliberately giving myself bad flashbacks to make the monitor beep faster... Unsurprisingly, no one worried or checked on me.

I checked my phone for messages.

“One New Message”.

I saw the name, it was from her.

I hesitated slightly, before opening it...

“Just forget about me, okay?”

Okay...

I didn’t care anymore. Why would I care?

It wasn’t my fault she left me, I was good enough for her, she just wasn’t that into me.

That’s not my fault. None of this was ever my fault.

My sudden good mood scared me a little...But I was okay with it.

I’m okay.

I miss my Mom, I miss my family, I miss my memories.

But it doesn’t matter.

I’m okay.

 Dear diary,

Wait... Is that too childish? I mean, I'm 23, it's a little weird for me to have a diary in the first place...

Dear Journal?

I don't know... That still doesn't seem right...

Dear...peice of paper.

It's been three weeks since they let me out of hospital.

No therapy, no "good luck", not even a goodbye... They literally just kicked me out.

I know I said I was okay, and I've been doing okay, I guess...But it still sucks...

I can't get her stupid name out of my head. And for those who haven't quite understood yet, I am a lesbian. Thanks.

And I can still hear Mom's voice calling my name whenever I try to sleep...

I've been sleeping a lot though. I have nothing else to do.

I'm not alowed to work for another month, something about "clinically depressed". I don't know, I wasn't listening.

But if I go back to work I have to see her again. I don't want to do that. I love her, yeah, but I really hate her.

I hope she's doing okay, I hope she remembered me...

I feel numb. It's better than feeling like my heart was being ripped out via my lungs, but it's not great.

I realised that you know nothing about me, at all. Well, this is me...

I am 23, apparently I look 25 but I blame the cigarettes and sleepless nights for that.

I used to live with my Mom, she's not here anymore, but I still live in her house. It's not bad, but it makes missing her a thousand times worse to know that she once stood in every spot I stand in.

And my name is...

No. Screw names. I am me. You don't need me to have a name. It's not like you can talk back to me.

Every one that's known my name has ended up leaving. I don't have a name anymore.

I don't even know why I'm keeping this diary. The internet said it helps or something like that. I just find this a little weird. I'm talking to a peirce of paper.

I don't know where my life is going, but I know it's going somewhere other than a hospital bed, at least for now anyway. That's enough for me. I don't need some random stranger concelling me, telling me that I have problems. I don't need pills. I can do this. Not because someone on my blog said I can, not because my Mom used to tell me that I can, but because I want to do this.

Screw this diary. I don't need this.

I can do this.

Publication Date: 06-03-2015

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