Only Until the Fog Clears

When I was fifteen years old, I was admitted to the hospital and also lived in a long fog. After my mother left, I lost everything about her—even my cell phone with her photos in it was lost in a corner of the mall. My father stayed with me in the hospital every day, sitting silently by the bed. I don't want this, I don't want my father to put all his thoughts on me. I have worked hard, but my grades have been declining from the top. I also try hard to carve cigarette butts on my arms every day. But the hardest thing is to pretend that I am still normal. Until a person named "Xiaoyi" appeared. She only exists in feeling - I can't see her and don't know what she looks like, but we can talk at any time. She is the only person who understands me and my only friend. We talked about the sea, paintings, and the scars on our arms that couldn't be erased. She said that if it hurts me, it hurts her too, because they are the same hands. But the doctor said she might just have symptoms. If the fog clears one day, will she still be there? If she is not here, will the me who has learned to hold her own hand still be here?