Needs.

Being stuck in this room is killing me.
I need out, I need out.

I need something to occupy my mind, or something to make me smile. Anything to make me smile.
What can I do to entertain myself?

To keep my mind from wandering too far into the future, into the depths of the unknown - that darkness that I fear entering, the darkness that is nearing.

The weight-gain, the reintroduction of food.
The thoughts of food. Eating. Consuming. Gaining.
They disgust me. Terrify my. Petrify me.

I need something to keep me grounded.
To keep me here and now, but to pass the time.

I'm lost, helpless.
Lonely. Alone.

There's no room for smiles, laughter, happiness.
Where is the light?

* * *

I have a compulsion to get out of bed, to stretch, at every opportunity available.
I've gained weight. Obviously. And that's playing on my mind. I'm trying to be rational but I can't. I can't at all.
What do I do? How do I combat this?
I'm really asking for help, in all areas - from you, I need your advice. I need your advice so desperately.

Frustration.

I'm stuck in a bed. 

I'm being fed through a tube.

I can't do anything.

I can't do anything to quicken the recovery process.

So I stay stuck in this bed, not doing anything. 

I'm alone.

Terrified.

Exhausted.

Confused and conflicted.

Unsure as to what I can possibly do. 

I'm weak.

Too weak to fight.

Too weak to think.

So weak that even Ed is weak. 

There's nothing to fight, but I am fighting.

Fighting against what, I don't know.
Recovery? Recouperation? 

But I'm not doing anything.

* * * 

FRUSTRATION.

Please help. 

Somebody.

Hospital.

I'm in Hell.

Complete bedrest. No moving about.
24 hour feeds.
No food. (Not that I want it. But am I hungry? I don't know. I really don't know.)
Sitting down on a shower chair.
No privacy.
Toilet and shower supervision.

What have I done?

***

I hate where I am. I hate what I've done. I hate who I am. 

So much hate. So lonely, isolated, sad, depressed. 

I can't handle this.
Who knows how long this will go on for. Who knows how long I'll be on bedrest. 

I have no freedom. No nothing.
Just my thoughts. Just my mind. 

I'm so exhausted. I'm so run down. I don't know what to do, what to think - how to think.

What am I doing? 

What have I done?

Bags Packed.

I'll be in hospital.
This Monday.

I don't want this.

But I have no other choice.

This is it.

***

My address is:
Eleanor van Enst
John Cade Unit - Level 2
Royal Melbourne Hospital
Grattan Street, Parkville
Australia, 3052