Barbara Walters

Sometimes I wish I could write on here what goes on in my life.
The things that make me smile.
The things that make me laugh and hiccup.
About those things that scare the crap out of me.
The ones that make me cry.
The things no one knows and the things I'm tired of knowing.

When I was young, I used to volunteer at Bergan Mercy Hospital
(yes, I was the totally hot brunette in the candy-striper uniform!)
I HATED when I would arrive and they would send me over to the old-people's area.
I'd walk the halls, filling water pitchers and changing bed sheets.
One time I saw an old woman all twisted on the floor next to her bed screaming for help.
I ran down the hall to get a nurse; the nurse was so angry, as if it was interfering with her work.
What the fuck was the point of her job anyway?
The old ladies would put their names on a list to have their nails painted.
I HATED that too.
I had to try to paint a woman's nails who had arthritis.
Her hands were tight balls, unwilling to be opened.
But she tried, and said it didn't hurt as I tried to bend her fingers.

Then there was one lady who stopped me.
She said not to ever lose the innocence she saw in me.
Somethings I wish I didn't know.