Too Hopeful A Thought

It's the 1st of February and I'm sitting on my swirly office chair, sipping t and sober.

This was not the plan.

Life is strange, as though everything is at a stand still,

like I've entered a phase that I hadn't planned on entering.

It's disconcerting... I like plans.

I had a plan, work and then travel.

Now it's work...wait..wait.wait....travel?

It's going to happen, but I can't imagine it anymore.

My bag and Malaria tablets sit there looking lost in my room,

the bikinis and vest tops look alien against my many scarfs and leggins.

Lauren hasn't improved but she hasn't deteriorated.

She's up and she's down.

For a week, I wasn't sure she even knew I was there at her bedside,

and it hurt.

But friday changed everything, she moved home, she lay in her bed with a magazine.

She was awake, joking, engaging in casual conversation,

though of course she was exhausted.

It was amazing to see her like that, I immediately cheered up.

I haven't cried since.

It's just... It seems as though I'm the only one.

Every adult, her mum included, speak as if it were a week ago.

But I write this and think 'oh shit, Loz is probably going to read this'

.....is that too hopeful a thought?

Is it wrong to hope?

I'm going to see her at 11am tomorrow for 10 minutes,

I'm worried.

The last time I saw her it seemed as though she was on the road to recovery

but the last few days have been rough

and there's been no visitors

and I don't want hope to disappear.

We've rebooked to fly out on the 14th, Val's Day

and I have no idea what will happen between now and then.

I enjoyed to find my bookmark face in her diary, ehe