I just came out of the hospital. They put me there because of my malnutrition. I was just a bag of bones about to die because of the lack of iron. They noticed this after I got there for other reasons and this condition caused postponed my freedom. I went there because the cuts on my wrist were letting all my blood out so I was bleeding my own life. I remember I was dizzy. I was lying in my bed and watching the blood staining the white sheets. One, two, three. The door opens and they see me. The paramedics came into the room after about ten minutes of him screaming, asking if I was okay, and hitting the door in an attempt to open it, but I locked it and threw the key down the toilet. I remember his face when they were taking me into the ambulance. I bet I looked horrible. He was crying and I could see how worried he was. It was like a mixture between his previous anxiety when I didn't answer to his voice and this recent relief he felt when he saw I was still alive. He wasn't able to get into the ambulance, he thought I was going to die and he didn't want to see me dying although he probably knew I would love being with him while dying. Anyway, I remember how the neighbors were looking at my corpse through their windows , the paramedics and the ambulance. I must have fallen asleep after that. I remember the hospital, the doctor, the needles. Then him, concerned, asking if I was okay, what happened, and all that stuff. Then _______ took me home.