goosebumps.
like the ones you give me.
like the only things you left as proof
that we were real.
goosebumps.
the ones I got when you stroked my side with your thumb
and it tickled
but I didn't tell you because I was afraid you'd stop.
goosebumps.
the ones I got when you raised your voice
and threw plates across the room just to watch them shatter
like my father used to.
goosebumps.
the ones you gave me
when we'd sit in front of the fireplace
with our blankets and hot chocolate
on cold winter nights,
taking turns exchanging ghost stories.
goosebumps.
the ones I got when I found out you'd become
one of the ghosts from the stories we told.
goosebumps.
the ones I got when we lowered you into the ground
because it had become too hard for you to breathe air anymore.
goosebumps.
the ones I got from the whispers saying I could've saved you
but didn't.
goosebumps.
the ones I get when i feel you touch my arm
when I sit in front of the fireplace alone (like I did during fights)
and whisper, "I'm sorry," in my ear
in the middle of the night (like you used to after fights),
pretending it's your arm around me
instead of your favorite blanket.
goosebumps.
the only things that remind me I'm real.

Today a man told a **** joke.
Everyone laughed.
I stood there and thought about it for a moment
And then I asked,
"What is funny about that?"
The laughter stopped
and they stood there in silence.
The momentary silence of shattered illusions,
There was no answer
Because it wasn't funny
So why laugh?

We were different
Like winter and summer,
So we made our little spring
To balance it out.
But then fall came.

I remember my young body
Barely free of stitches
You placed me on a motorcycle
And laughed when I crashed

When I told my phsysical therapist that I'm a lesbian,
her answer was a question I did not ever expect;
"So... Are you a lesbian because you are disabled and you cannot get a boyfriend?"
I was speechless,
looking at the wall,
stunned. *******,
she did not just stereotype every single disabled homosexual to have ever existed.
I stammered no,
and I tried to explain that I have had boyfriends before,
it just wasn't my thing.
Looking back now I realise that,
I should not have explained anything because I don't ever need to explain anything about the people I love.
I have had a thing for girls,
since I was three,
and when I was three years old I did not notice my disability,
the way it's being noticed today.
And the absolute most heartbreaking thing about both my sexuality and my disability is,
that I still do not notice it as much as everybody else seems to do.
I can be the best girlfriend ever,
no matter what my sexuality is,
no matter how my body looks.
And don't get me wrong;
I like guys too. I think guys are wonderful.
If God had created Eve and Ava,
who would have brought me into this World?
I can get a boyfriend if I want one,
maybe someday I find the most amazing guy ever,
and I will not let my sexuality stand in my way.
But for now,
I am a disabled homosexual,
who decided to tell you about it.
And dear physical therapist:
I have never judged you,
not even when you told me you fell for a fat guy,
and now you're married.
So don't ask me if I'm only a lesbian,
due to the fact that I have a disability,
because guess what?
I'll have my disability no matter if,
the person I'm dating,
has a ***** or a ******.

(e.k.j.)

Thank you for always being here,
when I needed you the most.
When I asked you to come over,
you were there in a matter of minutes and most days,
you even brought your best friend Anxiety,
so we wouldn't be alone.
Some days,
you asked if you could stay over,
because you were all alone and really needed a hug.
My reply was a of course,
I know how it feels like to be alone in this world.

But now,
now you will not leave,
no one else wants you and I'm stuck here with you in my bedroom.
I don't remember how it felt like,
before you came around and it is like having a best friend you just can't be apart from.
It is weird because sometimes I hate you,
other times I can't live without you.
You can make me feel so important,
yet so dead and I wish I did not have to say this,
but dear Depression,
I think it is time for you to leave.

(e.k.j.)

"Are you okay?"
You ask

"Well define 'okay'"
I answer

My heart is beating
Granted, too fast

My blood is flowing
I just checked

My brain is functioning
I'm thinking too much

My stomach is active
It's angry for me not eating

My lungs are moving
I'm just out of breath

Beyond physically?
No I'm definitely not okay