26/4

of all things that i enjoy,
after fucking up my knee apparently i won’t be:

a. able to swim anymore
        (which is the only sports i can do, also because
    of my poor legs in the first place)
and
            b. advised to bike
(which is a form of transportation that i’ve always liked better than the other).

when the needle pricked my knee and
        the sharp, stinging pain was
            there
                while the doctor tried to divert my attention from the pain by asking mundane questions i—

    i thought about you.

and when the blood was drawn and i felt my knee went numb i still thought about you.

when i sobbed in the shower a week later because it got too much i thought about you.

when i woke up in the morning slowly getting better and better everyday,

of course i thought about you.

                (because this is nothing compared to yours and
                    i knew—you and she did, too, it’s
                        just that i’ve never been treated in a hospital before
           and i simply allowed myself to be scared for quite some time.

p.s. it’s not a good feeling at all. i don’t know how you do it and i’m sorry.)

    this is nothing.
        we both will be fine.