Elliot's Solitary Confinement -- Sunday 6pm
I adjusted the makeup mirror on the table, scrunching my nose as I saw my reflection. Carla has from me a few things from home, so I figured I would make an attempt to look halfway decent. You know, instead of crusty eyed and pantless in a hospital bed. After applying bit of foundation and lip gloss, I felt a little better. Still nothing compared to my usual polished look, but decent. I pushed the table away, and looking longingly towards the empty doorway. The last time I stayed in the hospital was when I had my tonsils removed in the seventh grade. I couldn't talk at first, and it was like really, really hard for me. I got to eat ice cream for breakfast, though. Then I went through this phase where I had selective mutism. It only lasted for, like, a day though. I haven't shut up since.
Ah, memories.
Ah, memories.