I was pathetic
I knew it and so did everyone else
I tried too hard and wanted too much
To be liked, appreciated, noticed, or even spoken to
I could practically hear the internal monologue of the people I talked to
“God why is she here?” “She never shuts up!”
But I could feel it, deeply and vibrantly; I could be a great friend
I had the potential! I knew I could do it.
Until finally I met someone who genuinely enjoyed me
Someone who thought I was smart, funny,
And his eyes didn’t glaze over when I talked
And I did talk, endlessly about things like comics and books and cigarettes
I can still remember the beginning of that instant camaraderie
Its painted with the electric blue of his band t-shirts
Stained with the heavy scent of his grape cigars
And dotted with trips out on the town
But the universe must know about me
Because on a balmy summer night, right after the start of the school year,
Like the one we’d met in a year before
He was electrocuted, fell fifty feet, and announced dead on arrival
And even for someone who’d be friends with a girl like me
That seemed like overkill

This one is for the doctor who called me “delicate”
I think I missed that word in the thick textbooks about disease I’ve seen
This is for the lab technician who lost not one but two vials of my blood
Because I really wanted to help that new nurse figure out veins again.
This is for the stupid slogans on the walls
A fichus with the word peace under it, I'm cured.
This is for the geriatric room with the low table they always put me in
An arthritis patient means elderly woman, right?
This is for the negative tests and endless questionnaires about my health
Checking how often, how severe, and how much I care.
This is for the four empty orange prescription bottles sitting neatly on my desk
Red pills, and yellow pills, and white ones, oh my!
This is for the loud groan of pain in the morning I make before I even wake
Because why shouldn’t my roommate wake up when I do?
This is for the symphony of my cracking joints and creaking bones
Because violently trembling when you walk up stairs is so very ****.
This is for the manic googling at 4 AM,
Does this symptom mean anything? Is it just a quirk or side affect?
This is for WebMd, bless their hearts,
Who think that sniffles mean polyps and headaches mean cancer.
This is for the flights upon flights of stairs I climb each day,
Cats are considered ****, is panting like a dog?
This is for the cramping and shaking hands everyday
Because as a writer and artist I never even use them right?
This is for my mother
Who’s waited patiently with me through every doctor’s visit
This is for my best friend Lauren
Who missed three classes to take me to a clinic
This is for my nephew
Who is too big for me to pick up without grimacing now
This is for the wine I drank
And the bedroom basement I climb out of
And the backpack I heave around
And the school lunches I leave in toilets
It’s for the nights I have to stay in and the ones where I make myself leave
Because the only thing tough enough to stop me
Is me.
And I’ll tip my hat to myself for putting up such a good challenge.
It’ll just make it even more satisfying when I knock it the **** down.