Hospital journal excerpt, in blue

(written in blue crayon) I am lying in my bed facing the wall, a portion of which is covered with a partition. Thicker than wallpaper, not just paint. It’s is the perfect smokey marriage of navy and  plum, with the faint texture of an old woman’s skin gone to crepe paper. I press my palm to it, half hoping my fingers will seep through into another world, where my skin will be transformed into this color, a new creature with delicate blue skin that is wrinkled with fine lines of the lessons of an older, more enlightened version of myself. In my new world my skin would be revered as it speaks a story of endless harrowing battles won. I am a Queen. A Conquerer. I trace my fingertips, slow as with a lover, but it is just an ordinary wall. So I turn away, sit up, now cross-legged in my bed scribbling with a blue crayon because I don’t know what else to do.