I miss him.
I miss everything about him.
The older I get, the less memories I keep.
But I remember the nicknames.
I remember the carpet burns.
I remember the ham sandwiches cut into 4 triangles.
I remember that one time he put me in the bin and I laughed all afternoon
(although now I’m older I realise that was his illness).
I was so young when it happened
I was never taught how to deal with it.
So now I have these photos,
3 to be exact,
And I don’t know how to feel.
I don’t know how to cope.
I just miss him.

In 5 months
my life is over.
I’ve studied for 16 years.
What do I do when it ends?

How can I expect other people
to understand my illness
when I barely understand it myself.
It’s just letters
Three letters
that explain why I’m feeling like this.
Three simple letters claiming I’m not different
and that what I feel is acceptable.
But it doesn’t feel that way.
I get ridiculed when I don’t get out of bed
But it’s not my choice
I’m not controlling this
Do you think I’d have this sickness if it was a choice?
You think I choose to isolate myself just because it’s dark outside?
You seriously believe it’s normal that I sleep 20 hours of the day?
I’m sick.
I just want them to understand.

My once clever brain goes silent
when I look at you
It forgets how to send signals to my nerves
It doesn’t tell my heart to beat
It refrains from instructing my lungs to inhale and exhale
My body stills
But somehow I manage to smile

Sometimes I think of the way you looked at me
With that smile on your face
And sometimes I feel special
But then I see you look at other girls the same way
And realise I’m not
I’m not special to you
I don’t think I ever will be

I reach out for you
In the only way I know how
But you’re not there
You’ve never been there
I’m kidding myself to think we could be
But still
I reach out for you