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.

Burns

They say they loved me when I was a baby too

As if time or growth or your independence could ever stop me from loving you 

They tell me how much they do to keep us alive —and not send us to a home—

As if that is a scale to measure love on 

It is these things that clearly show

They are discussing something they have never known 

I wish they could see how much love it must be to hope after everything that they could feel what we feel 

So stuck on not wanting to be told they don’t know how to love that they miss the chance to experience it

So blind to the extent of my faith in them to weather the futility of trying them repeatedly

Such a bitter irony

The trying child of

parents who will not try for me

The cycle is broken but the circle is not 

Like a cold day in summer or a system reboot 

The path remains even after you change your shoes

At least you don’t have to carry this weight too

I will burn it down carefully, without scorching you