Tears are in your eyes.
At age 15 I had meningitis and was admitted to the hospital for so long that to me seemed like years. I was hospitalized with Nela
in the same room with the same disease, but different causes.
afternoon I went to visit the entered (I had already been 41 months with fever, very sick, but nobody could find a reason), and laughed at her because she was so cruel. Nela then grabbed my face, I licked it and said, pointing to the empty bed next door, "I see you there tomorrow."
That night I had the latest symptoms of the disease could not be confirmed other than meningitis, and showed up at 3:00 in the morning in her room in a wheelchair and put me in that bed that had been empty afternoon.
Anyway, she was discharged earlier, and called me from a Mexican saying all the goodies he was eating. Came the day I made the second puncture (the most painful thing you have ever felt) and I was sure she was well and could finally break out of there. However, the result showed that I still had a lot of diseased cells, and I had to stay at least half a month more revenue.
That evening I cried like never in my life, I cried and cried and cried, screaming anguish could not move the needle, nothing could console me.
until my father came to visit me at night. I wiped his face with the palm of his hand and said "at least you are very pretty when you cry." And you know how important it is for a girl of 15 years to feel beautiful, when it takes weeks locked up in a hospital being showered by outsiders and a horrible pajamas, with all the arms and hands covered in wounds by intravenous every 6 hours.
Since then, I did not stop mourn throughout my adolescence. She wept for all and to do everything. I thought it is not as terrible, if at least I'm pretty.
long ago stopped doing it, and as a good follower of the extreme I am, I do not cry for almost anything except for what is not important. I was reminded of all this today, this morning, when I could not stand the pain in my eyes and my mother had to give artificial tears. Love
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