-thirty-three

There was something always upsetting about hospitals. The continuous beeping sounds of the monitors. The eerie predominant feeling of something you couldn't quite place your hand on but you knew that turned your stomach inside out. The red, bloodied, swollen, oddly shaped or sometimes, even blue bodies, being rolled past you. And the smell.

I'd have liked to think that was what caused the upturning in my stomach but who would I be deceiving?

I had fucking weed withdrawal symptoms. And for the past days, I'd been puking and shitting my insides out. Erica suggested I'd be moved from the E.R so I wouldn't be discharged and I could detox in the hospital. I didn't like the sound of detoxing.

I'd been high. Higher than a kite everyday since I got here and I was only realizing it now because I wasn't high anymore. Because I felt like shit right now. Because I felt lower than low.