foreign place lying in bed at night. When will this feel like my room,
my space? When will this feel like home? Will this ever feel like
home? This house, these people, this situation, this life? Its odd
working so hard for this only to feel like its not really mine anyway.
Laying here in the dark with my sprained ankle wrapped in an ace
bandage, some reprieve from the torture device of a splint the doctor
gave me. Not being able to walk is hell. Living in a trilevel house
with no bathroom on the main floor is hell. Bruised armpits from the
stupid crutches are hell. Back to work tomorrow. Hell.