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 Approximately 8 days and 21 hours or so... That's how long I've been in this building, not once going out. I've only been out of the room 3 times. First to transfer to my mom's room, who is now the one wearing the hospital gown, second to let the guard downstairs cut my patient tag, and third was yesterday evening, when I went to the canteen to choose dinner with my dad. Hence, it can be said that I've been out of the room, but not outside. Haven't even had the sun shine on my skin. I kinda miss it actually. Like how I miss the feel of the road against my feet or slippers or shoes. Well, the thing is, this post is about how being confined inside the 4 walls of a hospital room is driving me mental. Yeah, I know it is evident that even before today, I have been crazy to some extent. However, I still felt bit normal then. Now, my normality is down to just about 10%. Inside this room is so cold but outside is just too damn hot. I get dizzy when I stand up for a long time and I would rather lie on my stomach than sit. Not to mention that I haven't fully recovered from amebiasis and my tummy aches worse than it did when I was still diarrheic. It may seemed like I'm complaining too much, but I'm not. Okay, maybe I am.  Please try to understand, though. This is my only outlet. Well, not really the only outlet, it's just one of my less crazy outlets. I mean I don't have my sketch book so I can't draw even if I want to. I can't listen to music cause my memory card decided to fuck up. I can't exercise. Man, I miss how running and stretching can hurt so good. And all these unavailable things are making me nuts. One night, I dreamt of listening to Foo Fighters and Sevendust. The next night, I dreamt of exercising to my work-out jam. Therefore, I have to write. I can't sing my heart out here cause I might or I would disturb the patient next door if I do so. I can't drink coffee cause my parents are here and coffee's not good for my gall bladder. Damn, I can't even starve myself given that mama and daddy are here and they keep insisting that I eat. They think I'm actually losing weight whereas I feel like I am gaining pounds. I even overheard them talking about how it's a pity that I'm losing weight when they thought I was still sleeping. To top it all, the only person I wanna talk to doesn't even seem to want to talk to me. And I do care deeply for that individual but I don't think he feels the same. He probably got too much on his plate and too many girls at his disposal so I don't even mean a thing to him. It sucks, you know. This feeling. And maybe me wallowing on self pity and insecurity is just me having premenstrual syndrome. Man, I hate this crap. I miss the good old days when I didn't have any syndrome. Pre or post. I miss just feeling crap during my period. Oh well, I think I should just go back to being indifferent and selfish. I can do that. The question is, do I want to? I shan't dwell on that question now. Right now, I should just try to go outside first.