i'd hate to call myself a shell of a person. i'd hate to call myself sick, to think the road ahead is disintegrating before my legs.
it's terrifying, lugging a limp body through rooms and through a translucent mind. fingers crossed around my throat in a choke-hold,
i'm not ready for my heart to die yet, i----
i want to scream, i want to cry, i want to dance, i want to dream, i want to work, i want to do big things (like everyone else).
bedtime gone sunrise come, another day i find myself trapped in the wheel of aches and tears (someone relieve me of this melancholy weight)
no strength to stand on the legs that carried me through my childhood, no patience to get up another day, play devil's advocate for fickle optimism
hold my hands up above my head, uplift this sad, heavy heart. these limbs ache to burn with movement, these hands crave contact with pens and paper, this brain cannot come to terms with my departure of the self
these flesh and bones have grown faint and brittle under the weight of a girl with big dreams, oh my god !
i hope i don't capitulate
from this cage of a body, i crave liberation.
otherwise titled: the ins and outs of formal diagnosis
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this is probably going to be transferred into "let's talk," but i wanted to write about experiencing chronic illness. it leaves people so drained that they feel like they are dead in a dormant body. live just lacks the vibrancy it used to, and you're inhibited from experiencing it fully.
fatigue is a different type of pain than physical; both are incredibly painful. fatigue is like watching life flash by in color before you and looking down at your own black and white body. it's like being the only one standing in a crowded, bustling subway. like watching others eat and remaining hungry for days.
***
