My illness is a friend of mine by my side he always stays
He hides himself from me sometimes but comes around in other ways
He's there when I feel I'm alone, but twists his fingers in my blood
Too dark and gloomy days I'm prone, he stays with me like all friends should
It's hard to say why he's my friend he makes me cry and have bad thoughts
But then on the other end, he ties my stomach up in knots.
I've lived with him for many years, he's never left me alone
And though he causes bitter tears, he wipes them when I'm done.
He hides his face from me sometimes and though I often ask
It seems my friend will never leave till he has done his task
And though at times, I wish my friend would just leave me alone
The way he shows his constancy is harsh, but all my own.
Depression, anxiety, meniers disease, fibromyalgia, all words that seem to be fighting to overtake my life. So few things in my life are constant. Friends, family, comfort, safety, but those things have stayed with me for most of my life. I hate them and I love them, I hate how hard they make my life, but I love the ability and excuse to depend on something other than myself.