I suffer from anaphylaxis allergies.

I suffer from anaphylaxis allergies.

I was born trying to die. I was allergic to clothes and food and hugs from careless aunts and the outside. But I was loved.

I suffer from anaphylaxis allergies.

I was a happy child despite the constant fear my mother hid so well. I hated itching and not breathing and blacking out and giant needles then waking up in the hospital but I loved mother’s hugs. Her embrace squeezed away the hives and fear.

I suffer from anaphylaxis allergies.

I was allergic before it was cool to be allergic.

I suffer from anaphylaxis allergies.

I moved from my home, from my family, from my doctors to a strange place with strange people who didn’t understand me. Whenever they said allergies were only in my 6-year-old head my mother’s hugs squeezed a little tighter.

I suffer from anaphylaxis allergies.

A boy once informed everyone to not touch me because they would catch my allergies. I told him yes and chased after him.

I suffer from anaphylaxis allergies.

The cage my mother build crashed down as the stupid blonde with her stupid straight hair dipped my lip gloss in cheese to prove I was “faking it for attention.”

I suffer from anaphylaxis allergies.

Growing up was hard as I started to break the hugs sooner, eat less, and trust no one. My back was turned more and my room door was closed always.

I suffer from anaphylaxis allergies.

I put on a smile every time someone asks, “So, what can you eat” so stop my eyes from rolling so hard they could fly out. I am allergic to stupid questions.

I suffer from anaphylaxis allergies.

I traded my once happy smile for a scowl and no longer allowed any hugs. I counted my days knowing they were limited. I rejected life before it would reject me as if I was a middle school dater.

I suffer from anaphylaxis allergies.

I looked in a mirror and saw a shell of who I once was. I was ashamed. I was a miracle of life and I was wasting it. I am allergic to my selfish waste of a life.

I suffer from anaphylaxis allergies.

I pick the walls one by one until light shines through. I hold a hug longer. I forgive that stupid blonde with stupid straight hair… or try to.

I suffer from anaphylaxis allergies.

I date.

I suffer from anaphylaxis allergies.

I live.

I do not suffer. I have. I am not.

 

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