Just get over it, she said.
Were these words simply a cruel joke?
I never expected to hear them
From the walking medical degree in a lab coat.
Shouldn’t you be smarter than that? I wanted to scream.
But my chest constricted,
Eighty five pounds, not wanting to eat,
Waiting for my trembling to alleviate
So that I could
Get some sleep
But you don’t see that do you?
God, I pray incessantly.
Give me lesions, boils, blood.
Turn me gray, black, neon green.
To get them to see that there’s something wrong.
Until you fear impending death.
Until you feel your heart bounding out of your chest.
Do not tell me that I’m not anxious,
Don’t you dare tell me I’m not depressed.
If I had the power or the influence
A societal paradigm,
I would transform the way our world views
Those with disorders
Of the mind.
In a culture where mental illness
Is treated tantamount to physical disease,
Recovery would be a lot easier
For schizophrenics, for phobics,
In the end, we are just like you.
We just have different battles to overcome,
Different trials to go through.
This poem is not a wish.
It is not a hopeless desire.
This is a testament
To what I will
To what I am
Transforming the perspective of
A city, a nation, a world
Requires relentless work, and
I would be a fool to expect anything less.
But I continue to smile. Because,
After all, progress is