Lindsay Anderson

Faelyn Lindsay Anderson

Today is one of those days where I feel at my lowest. I feel physical-ly sick, emotion-ally and mentally exhaust-ed, and angry that I have to be in the hospital, and deal with my cancer. Usually, I am in good or neutral spirits, but today is not one of those days. Before I know what is happen-ing, Marc Jackson, the guy who I constant-ly pick at and vice versa, is bringing me my lunch. Noticing that there are tears running down my face, he grabs a chair, sets it down by my hospital bed, sits down, and quietly takes my hand in his. Instead of pulling it back. I let him hold my hand/. After all, Marc is trying to be nice, and his hand is bringing me comfort."Let it out, I'm right here." Marc says, gently, gently rubbing my shoulder with his other hand.