Dear Andi

17th August 2016

Dear Andi,

I'm really bored, you know. All this waiting. I hate it. It's awful, as if this next treatment is just futile. As if there's no point in being here. You know how much I hate waiting. Hospitals are creepy too. There's no personality here. When you go to a house, you can judge it and decide if you like it or not. Like a new face, you can tell if a person is friendly or not. Hospitals doesn't really have faces. Just plain. Like a monster off Doctor Who, there's this monster that scares you a lot, I can't remember its name. Thinking about it sends shivers down my spine. I wish you were here with me, so your comfortingly soft voice could reassure me, make all those worries go away just for a little while. But no, you have no idea about all... this. I shouldn't be complaining about that really, I'm the one who should have told you a couple of weeks ago. But your football season started, it's going really well for you and I would feel terrible if I told you. It hurts a lot when I see your face fall at a sad revelation or something. You get so distracted easily too; if I told you, you'd get so worried about it, you would be fretting about it all of the time and it would make your shit at football. Not a good idea. I want you to do well at Derby County. I have never seen you look so elated when you told me you signed for them. Sure, I was pissed off that day but it was because you were going to be living further away but it's alright now. I'm meant to be 17 and moving into a place of my own but I'm stuck in a cheap and ugly flat in central Birmingham while you live in a new posh house. Totally glamorous. It's not bad through, the train station is just a five minutes' walk. You pay for everything every time I go to see you and I always feel bad. Even more ow because I'm practically dying and you have no idea.

The treatment room is calling for me, it's my turn finally. So I'm going to stop writing, I suppose.

See you soon sucker, love you,

Eleanor x