Keeping Busy
Desiree
Keeping Busy
Desiree

There are very many very colorful and descriptive words I could use right now, to tell how I feel about this.
"Hogwash" will have to suffice.
For the past six days, I have been "keeping busy". Not because I choose to. Not because I think it'll help. But because I have no choice. None. The one person I might call upon to help is the one person who is grieving along with me. My dad.
I'm exhausted and ill and brain-fogged, stumbling around like a drunk. Staring into space like a zombie. I desperately want to crawl into bed, tell everyone to fend for themselves, and sleep for a year, maybe more.
At this moment, I might even settle for a few hours' nap, so long as it is somewhere, anywhere, than this damned, damned hospital.
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