Bill Kaulitz

I had been admitted to the hospital again a few days ago because of my asthma, since I did not follow the doctor's instructions and did the opposite of what he told me.

I hated the hospital, the smell of medicine, the food without salt and sugar, they wouldn't let me do anything since they treated me like a helpless child who couldn't take care of himself, but what I hated most were the people I had to share a room with.

I thought this time would be different, since when I got to the room there was no one in the other bed, so I thought no one would occupy it and that I would finally enjoy the silence that I liked so much.

— I don't want to eat this, it tastes disgusting, and besides, gelatin doesn't have sugar.

I was woken up by a shrill voice. When I turned around, I realized it was a little girl, a damned, spoiled little girl.

— Well, that's all there is to it. This isn't a restaurant where they let you choose what you want to eat; just shut your mouth and eat.

I said, clearly irritated, because if it weren't for her, I would still be sleeping.