When I write... I have a plan...
But I also have no freaking clue how to get there...
And then things just happen...
It was 9.30 a.m, and he was the only one awake in his room. His new friends had stayed, but they had finally succumbed to sleep…
He felt like crap. He wished he could be sleeping, or at least be unconscious… He wished that his leg would give him just a minute of rest. Just a freaking minute of rest! Was that too much to ask for?
Yes, yes it was…
He probably deserved it, he was a screw up after all… He always screwed up! No matter what task, he would find a way to wreck it! He had gotten himself stabbed, shot and nearly killed many times. He had, at occasions, almost gotten his dad or Sammy killed too…
That was even worse…
He never lived up to what people expected of him in school. He always forgot to turn in the assignments on time, more often he didn't turn them in at all… He had reached this one point, a shitload of years back, where he just decided to act like he didn't care… It made things a helluva lot easier…
He still cared though… He just didn't show it…
He was a screw up, a burden. A God damned disgrace!
-and he knew it!
He knew Sammy looked up to him, but for what?
He was just himself… The older brother that always got in trouble. The brother that ALWAYS managed to fuck things up, and make things go sideways! He could not imagine why Sammy, his perfect little brother, would look up to him! The guy with a master's degree in failure and screw ups, and a bachelor's in trouble…
'Oh God, his leg hurt!' he was pretty sure that it would be less painful to have a limb ripped off in an explosion…
A small whimper left his lips as he tried to control the waves of pain rolling in over him. Why did this hurt so much? He hadn't even moved now!
He dried the tears rolling down his cheeks with the back of his hand.
Heroes didn't cry…
Another reason why he wasn't a hero!
What if this pain never stopped? What if he had to feel like this for the rest of his life? What if he would never walk without crutches again? What if…
He felt the need to throw something, push something… Punch something! Not exactly kick something... But that had a reasonable explanation…
He could feel every breath affecting his leg. He hadn't thought that was possible… But then again, it was probably just him being a freaking baby…
He bet his father would have been walking it off right now… Just like if it was nothing…
Yeah, he was a screw up AND a baby!
Great way to go through life…
And on top of it all… He knew he was stupid!
That was one of the many differences between him and his younger brother.
Sammy was smart, almost all A's…
He himself wasn't… He barely made it through…
Sammy never made big mistakes…
Dean had as mentioned earlier a master's degree in failure and screw-ups…
Sammy never got in trouble…
Dean bad a bachelor's degree in that subject… And he was obviously working on a master in the same subject… By the time Dean was 14, like Sammy was now, he had been arrested three times… Sammy still had a clean record…
Dean was a freaking screw-up, no doubt about it!
This time he had fucked up ROYALLY!
...
The sun was about to rise above a mountain outside his room at the hospital. It looked like the dawn was breaking.
Dean liked this part of the day… It promised a new start.
Usually he would be able to screw something up before noon. Maybe not today…
After all… He couldn't possibly screw up bad if he was just lying there in bed…
He dried off his tears one more time, and set his mind that that was the last of them.
…
There was a knock on the door, and a nurse barely out of nursing-school entered the room. She looked at the other teenagers whom still slept at different places in the room, then at Dean.
"I was going to ask if you minded some visitors this early, but I think that is answer enough…" she said letting a hand glide through the air, gesturing to the teens sleeping in his room.
"Who is it?" Dean asked, calculating quickly he guessed his dad and Bobby.
"It's your dad and your uncle." she confirmed for him, "They just arrived…"
"Let them in, but could you help me sit up first? I'm sick and tired of just staring at the ceiling all the time…"
The nurse nodded, then moved in closer. "Not much to see there, huh?"
"Nope," Dean said as a smile flirted with his features, "think I've counted those tiles about 5 000 times by now… It's 42, if you wondered!"
"I love that book…" she smiled.
"Oh, you do?" Dean smiled, "I like the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy as well as the next man, but well… That wasn't what I meant… There really are 42 tiles in this roof."
She looked up and counted them…
"Yeah…" she laughed, "you're right!"
She smiled down at him again, "okay, when I help you up, you have to…"
"…grab hold of that handle, so that you can adjust the back of the bed… Yeah… Get it!" Dean cut her off, with a smile. He had been in this kind of position a few times earlier.
"You know your hospital stuff I see…" she said as she slipped a small feminine hand behind Dean's back to help him sit up.
"Yeah… I do…" Dean smiled at her, man if he hadn't been in all this pain, he would have been trying a lot harder to get a date with her.
"Okay… On three…" she smiled. "Are you ready?"
Dean drew in a breath of air, then gave her a short and firm nod.
"Okay, One. Two. Three…" she counted and helped Dean into a sitting position on the bed.
Dean grabbed hold of the handle, and cussed under his breath as his leg complained highly of his latest choice of movement.
"You good?" she asked as she worked with the incline on the upper part of the bed.
Dean didn't trust his voice as tears rolled down his cheek, he settled for nodding instead.
The back of the bed came up, and the nurse secured it. Then she placed her hands on Dean's back once more, to help him lie back down.
"You can let go of the handle now…" she told him, and eased him back to the inclined bed.
"Thanks!" Dean managed to say when he cooled down again, after a second live presentation of our nation's most colorful cusswords.
The nurse just smiled at him, a sympathetic look on her face. "No problem"
"Can you wait until these aren't running anymore, before you send my dad and uncle in?" Dean asked gesturing to his eyes, which at the moment was betraying him by letting small droplets of liquid roll down his cheeks.
"Yeah, sure. I don't think they will mind you crying, you have every right to do so!" she tried comforting him.
"Yeah… But I'll mind…"
She nodded and waited by the bed. Surprised that none of the others in the room had woken up.
I hope you liked it.
To everyone out there, with problems with self-loathing and self-esteem.
You are better than you think. I know it can be tough,
I know that you might feel that everyhing bad that happens are your fault.
ITS NOT!
The struggle is real. I know that, but you matter!
You make the world a better place for someone, you just might not know it yourself!
You don't have to be strong the whole damn time!
Let somebody know!
-You are not alone