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.

“He’s actually been less angry since…well, probably since he thought I was going to die.”

I stop and stare at her. Didn’t expect her to say that, but it makes sense. I had forgotten about her diagnosis. “…right.”

“He hasn’t said that to me but from how he was during that time, I think that’s what he thought,” She explains, breaking eye contact. I don’t want to remember this. I don’t want to talk about this. She hugs her arms.

I flashback to the drive back home with him.

“The drainage port got infected and those idiots, the doctors, they didn’t notice.” His brow furrows, but his eyes betray his resolve, tearing up as he tells me. He wipes his face and clears his throat. “She nearly died from that, you know.”

I didn’t know. I was 15 and all I knew was that I was getting picked up from my at-the-time girlfriend’s house because he texted me that she was in the ICU. I lied to my ex. Told her it was an appointment. I was scared. I think I was in denial, probably. I know that I didn’t stay in the room with her very long because I couldn’t keep pretending like everything was okay.

I don’t like talking about this, but I don’t like pretending like it’s not reality, or ignoring her when she’s still clearly sick even when she’s not on chemo anymore.

Still. I hate the uncertainty. I hate not knowing how much longer I’ll have my mom for.

Back in the present again. “Maybe.” I reply.

I’ve been thinking about writing this for a while but I got stuck on how I thought it should sound and look and read so i thought to myself “**** it” and decided to just write down exactly what i want to say.
Sometimes I feel like I don’t know how to say what I feel, actually scratch that, all the time I don’t know how to say what I feel. I wanted to write this as a nice cute song but I got hung up on trying to make stuff rhyme and it’s not about it being good to anyone else I just crave approval so I know that I didn’t **** up. But enough about me.

This is for you and you know who you are and if you don’t, well then, if it resonates with you then it’s for you.


I don’t know how to describe how I feel love, but I know that I feel it.
It’s not something I can pin down with a word like other people can, how they say “exhilarating” and “selfless”.
It feels like a fluttering, an overwhelming joy, but at the same time it feels nothing like that, it feels like a cool breeze off the lake.
So, for me, the feeling of love is always changing.
But I can see it.
I can see how I love you when I look at pictures of us.
I can see my love when I feel my eyes crinkle and my cheeks ache from a smile.
Everyone around me has always tried to define my love for me, but my love is not like theirs because it is subtle and quiet.

I’ve been working on saying it out loud when I feel it.
If it’s ever changing for me, it must be confusing as hell to everyone else.
Because others have tried to identify what they think is my love based on what they think they know love to be.
It is not a universal feeling, I understand.
So, you may see a blank face sometimes, but I provide the clarity, and I say,

I love you.

I wanna write a song
I wanna tell the whole world something on my mind
Make it catchy and fun and rhyme
But I’m afraid I’d get it all wrong

I wanna write a song
And sing it for everyone to hear
But my voice isn’t that great and my uke sits unplayed
I’m sure nobody would sing along

Oh look what I’ve done
In spite of it all, in the height of it all
I’ve put the words on the page, I’ve won.
Despite the stupid insistence of my thoughts; so persistent
I’ve gone and wrote a song

I want to make someone proud
Not in the way they’ve told me they are
I want to see it on their face and be able to tell
Without them saying it aloud

I just wanna write a song
It doesn’t even have to make any sense (cents?)
I really wanna put something out there
And prove to myself what I’ve know all along

Oh look what I’ve done
In spite of it all, in the height of it all
I’ve put the words on the page, I’ve won.
Despite the stupid insistence of my thoughts; so persistent
I’ve gone and wrote a song

And I know it doesn’t seem like much but to me it’s a first
Here’s to all of the others who think everything they make is the worst