Dump my body on the steps of Capitol Hill
They know what they did

Know that I didn’t go silently
Know that I was biting, scratching, fighting the whole way down

Seek justice, not vengeance
Vengeance is only for my soul to reap
Do not give them any peace
Rest should not come to them, for it will not come to me

If it was one, pay them some heed, it takes a great effort to break me
If it was many, shame them forever
Only cowards and fools need a mob to succeed

Take time to mourn,
There is great power in feeling
Then rise up, up,
And fight like hell for the living

I dreamt last night of someone waiting at the end of an aisle
And the sunbeams streamed through a morning mist
The piano clinked a charming tune
I walked through a garden towards them
But I think it was me watching myself from my partner's view
Because my parents were at my sides
It was as if no time had passed at all
And that's how I knew it couldn't have been me
Because my dad was tearing up
And maybe he would,
But I find it hard to believe that a man so averse to joy
Would be there and happy for me
But that's not the point
I was happy and it was more than a dream
Because it was a wish for something I desperately want to come true

I'd say I'm not a dreamer but I still hope for things that I know I will never have

I went to therapy again and decided that maybe I don't need it anymore
But then I sit up at midnight journaling and writing poetry in my notes app
I said I want to find happiness in the moment
Instead of forever grasping at it, never holding it

I was born running
heart and mind ceaselessly churning
never-ending, never-ending
Told to keep running, encouraged, demanded

I got older, the path got longer
The coaches scrutinizing from the sidelines
Yelling, constant, demeaning
It's not enough it's not enough

I despise it
I can never catch my breath
I cross the finish line and another appears

I've learned to stop and walk,
put up boundaries, healing healing healing

My legs planted now, but my heart and mind ceaselessly churning
Life isn't a race, I keep reminding myself
But I was born running

I want to live forever with you,
when our bones intertwine and turn to dust
I see the future with you
I trust myself in that

I can taste the red in the sunset we'll paint when we go

Sometimes I get tired of my body
Not in a self-hate way,
More of like a disdain for all the things I have to deal with

Tired of the stiff, clunky joints
Not bad enough to warrant a diagnosis,
yet not functional enough to get through a week without some kind of ache or pain

Sometimes I wish it would just hurry up and get worse instead of being in this in-between,
In a place where a professional would excuse it as something I brought upon myself rather than an actual problem

The matter of fact is,
I am 20 and losing flexibility and mobility of my joints, mainly in my hands
This started in February of 2023, and has been getting worse.
So much so that even when I don’t aggravate my hands (for example: by taking a **** ton of notes at uni) they can still hurt

It was July, and I was at the zoo with my mom.
It was going to rain later that day, and I could feel that in my hand joints.
Which was a first.
My hands flared up so much that by the end of the day I needed to wear my compression gloves.
This lasted for about a week, with the first two days being the worst.
This was the first time that my hands hurt without me having done a lot of writing.

I haven’t had a random flare up since then.
My hands have been hurting about every day now that I’m in uni, but it’s manageable.
I haven’t needed my gloves yet.
It’s mostly because I need to write a **** ton for uni and I can’t use my computer because I don’t retain information by typing.
It’s not writers cramp.
It’s in my knuckles.
The joints of my fingers.
I know this will only get worse.

My mom thinks it could be rheumatoid, since that runs in our family, but I don’t get swelling.

My left wrist hurts sometimes, and my knees hurt if they don’t have support when I’m sitting.
My hips hurt if I stand or sit for too long as well.

So I guess
Overall
Something is not working like how it’s meant to.

But until something break breaks, I guess I’ll never know.

"A man so flat and boobless you could skip him across a lake like a prized stone"

I showed my surgeon the text post, and she said
"We'll get you there!"

**** right, she did.
Staring into the mirror, I see all of me.

Mortal boundaries declaring who I've always known myself to be

Thank you for all of your support throughout the years, dear readers <3

Finally, finally, finally
I am free

Once, and again, and again.
How many times will I hear the same words?
The same diagnosis?

I can tell you all about how it’s not fair and how I’m sick of the people I love being told how long they can expect to live.
But this is so common.

Get over it, right?

Until I hear it again.