Some Days I’m not Sick

There are some days I believe they are lying.

The doctors, I mean. Some days I think

There couldn’t possibly be anything wrong

With me. Those days are the days I stand in the

Rays of the sun without consequence, the days I

Can pretend that my body hasn’t turned against me,

Hasn’t taken control from me. Some days I think I’m

Not sick anymore, that I was never sick, not really.

 

Other days, my head is stuck in a toilet, sobbing

Into the bowl as I throw up everything in me. Those

Moments I think even my soul loosens its hold within me and

Ends up flushed down the drain, never to be seen again,

Leaving me to never be me ever again. Other days I wish

To give into the urge and slip into a coma that I’ll wake from

When a cure shows up. To find a little corner of the universe to

Reside in, away from every well meaning but demeaning

Human being that believes they know best. Other days, I

Wish the disease would just take me as a whole instead of

Snatching pieces.

To be honest, I don’t want to be sick anymore. I still

Feel as if this is a nightmare I’ll wake up from, that

I’ll leave behind in a memory, eventually. Each

Blinding headache is really my head rolling off the

Pillow in my sleep. Every sharp stab of my back is

Me rolling over. Even the never ending sensation of

Burning agony that comes with taking my meds is just

Someone pinching me awake.

I don’t want to be sick anymore.

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