“I love you. Please don't ever come back.”

These two sentences didn't seem right together, like soggy puzzle pieces that weren't a match. I looked into the chocolate brown eyes of the nurse and nodded. I couldn't think of the right thing to say. “I won't.” “I'll get better.” “I'm not sick anymore.” Somehow these words didn't sound right, and she had probably heard them all before. Plus, I wasn't sure I believed them myself.

I don't remember the name of the nurse who said this to me as I left the hospital, who helped me pack the too-big sweatpants and loose T-shirts I had worn for those two weeks. I don't remember any of the nurses' names, as a matter a fact. They all blend together, all mouthing the same scripted lines and smiling the same fake smiles. That was the way I saw them, at least. To others, their smiles might have seemed real, but I knew what a fake smile looked like. I wore one every day.

So, rather than answer the nurse, rather than look into those honest eyes, I stared at her hands. They were old hands, more aged than the rest of her. She seemed around 45, but her hands were calloused and worn, showing how hard she worked. I imagined she liked to garden. I pictured the way her dark skin would blend in with the dirt as she dug into the earth.

Dirt. Goodness, it had been a long time since I'd seen dirt. That got me thinking. It had been a long time since I'd seen many things. The sun. Bugs. Trees. Grass. Pretty much anything outside of my hospital room. I bit my lip, excited. I was going home. In my mind, I saw a party. Coming home certainly seemed worthy of a celebration. To see the outdoors, to breathe fresh air … surely it was too good to be true!

Of course, I knew there would be no party waiting for me. People like me don't deserve parties. It was no great achievement to get out of the hospital when I shouldn't have been there in the first place. This was entirely my fault, and my dad and step-mom knew it. After all, I stopped eating, and no one could argue with that.

“Thanks. Good-bye.” And I sat in the wheelchair, ready to go home.