"You're so
young," they tell me as I give them the news.
Like it isn't
possible, like it negates the fact that it's happening.
I take a moment to
put on the smile. You know, that smile
that says it's okay.
The one that says,
"Hey it's no big deal, I'm tough." That one. The one that puts them at ease.
Then they really lay
it down, "But you're pretty."
As if pretty means
that it is all okay.
As if pretty
protects me from the pain.
As if pretty keeps
me from throwing up in that little plastic bag at the hospital over and Over
and OVER,
because the
medication that's suppose to HELP me only makes me more sick.
"You look like
Snow White" they say. Like it's
supposed to make me feel better.
Like being pale as a
result of the poison pulsing through my veins is a good thing.
At least you look
like a princess. Little do they know, I
am a princess caught in a prison cell. I
am stuck within my own house, within my own body fighting to get out.
The plot twist, the
villain is me. As these cells divide and
multiply, the very pieces of me that give my life bring me closer to
death. As these cell blocks are building
on themselves, they are tearing the rest of me down. I am screaming in pain, silently, every bone
in my body, my muscles dying to get out.
"You're just so
thin. I wish I could look like you."
Do you? Do you really wish that
you could fight this battle. This battle
between good and evil. This civil war
with yourself? Waking up throughout the
night, being unable to move as the pain slowly climbs through your veins.
It starts by slowly
creeping up your spine and through your stomach, spreading into your
fingers. It starts as physical pain, but
soon twists its way into your thoughts; writhing and gnawing at you, telling
you, "you have no purpose, give in, give up, you're dying…" Ah, but
then, this is what you wanted right?
This is the desired effect.
You're young, you're pretty, you're thin." This is what they've always told us we
wanted. This is what I've always been
told that I needed to be.
"You're just so
pretty," they tell me. Again, I put
on the smile and fade away.
