Just an Illness

 I wish you to know this if I ever die from it

The call to death is just a call to death

I did not die because I am mad at you

I died because death has been calling me

I am sorry if it happened when I was angry with you 

Maybe I’m not really sorry

But that is about my anger, not death’s dedicated line to me 

She calls when I’m happy, asking if it would be nice that this is my last day

She calls when I’m sick and tired, asking if I’d like to break away

She calls when I’m bored, she stalks me and meanders in when she sees the chance

She’s called me all the time, since I was just a little one.

It can get overwhelming sometimes, to keep saying no

It’s worse when she calls me in the middle of me feeling something I hate to feel the most 

She knows all my weaknesses, and she’s always there to shove me when I’m down

I know she’s not worth it

But it’s hard to see past something that is always around

I am vigilant and I am strong but I can’t be that all the time 

I’m not selfish

I’m not attention seeking 

It’s like catching an infection when you’re immune compromised

Medicines and routines and things can help until they don’t

You can try and try and try but sometimes it doesn’t work

I’m sorry if she got the better of me 

And you are reading this after I die

But please just try to celebrate my time on earth.