Searching for my Happily Ever After.

I think I shall give up on writing about last week.

On the Sunday we went to see Nan in the hospital. Shelooked really pale and her left arm was all purple. Her heart rate was a little low, too. But that's to be expected, she'd just had another heart attack a half hour before we arrived! She sounded weak and she said to Maman:

"I don't think I'll get out of here, Lorrie.."

I hope she'll get out of there. She can't die there. Maman says that there's nothing we can do and she won't get better because she needs a heart transplant but she's too old. She can't have blood cause of the witness thing. Dad told me to prepare for the worst. I wonder if she'll be buried in France along with Marienne? If she dies... I think I'll snap. I don't know what I'll do but it would be too much. Too soon after Grandad Ken.

Wil's mad at me. He sorta went all cold on me. All I did was speak German at him. Well I blocked him because he told me to go away and I wanted to talk to other people so.. yeah. I don't think he reads this diary. Boys aren't all that different to girls. Well, they are and they aren't, do you know what I mean? They have different hormones, they're not as close to their friends, and they think about sex a lot. Although, I do too so maybe that's not a difference. It's just that I don't let it show. *smirk*

He's getting pissed off at me quicker and quicker and all he really wants to do is roleplay with me. Oh and I think he's been brainwashed by some freaks who say a war between realms will occur in 2019. Wil once said "We're a match made in heaven. Well, limbo. We're a match made in limbo."

I think I'd just curl up inside myself if Nan dies now. Or cut my wrists or something. Or maybe just cry for years without stopping. Whenever I think about it I feel like crying. And do. Sometimes. I nearly cried many times today. In German Mrs. Franklin put on some music. The first track was one that had played at Grandad's funeral. I was trying so hard not to cry. I choked out "Mrs Franklin? Could you play something different please?" In a voice only she could hear. She understood and changed tracks. But I sat there a while afterwards wondering if the track I was listening to would be playing next week? While I'm dressed in black crying into my father's shoulder. I really need a hug. I need someone to comfort me but no one will.

Please don't die, Nanna. You'll make it. Somehow. Please just don't die. I beg of you.

That sounds silly. I have said it once and I'll say it again. Writing is my only outlet.

Good bye. I hope the next time I write in here, my Nan will be back home, poking Grandad with her walking stick.