this morning #55.

this morning. this was not the way she wanted to wake up this friday morn. since the surgery, fridays were the worst. since the surgery, friday meant trips to rehab, journeys to a place that a twenty-four year old usually didn't visit. journeys to a special, dark place punctuated by white, sterile walls. special trips in a special van to a sad shopping plaza twenty minutes down route 66. nobody knew the trouble she'd seen. nobody knew her sorrow. nobody knew how painful it was to rise from her bed in the morn. this morn. this friday. this fucking friday. she knew there were more appointments to come & she tried not to care that her left leg didn't do the things that it should. they told her it would be fine. she tried not to care what they said. the problem was not her left leg.