Sometimes the hardest thing is not being sick.
Watching the world drag by from a second story window,
too far away for anyone to notice, too separated for anyone to care.
They used to say that I was strong, that I was dealt an unfair deck.
that the cards were stacked against such a young girl.
That a hospital should not feel like home,
and that it was okay to be afraid.
they assured me that they were there for me
where have you all gone?
to the father that said he would never leave.
Did your reserves of affection dry up?
to the mother that devoted her life to me.
Did i become boring to you?
to the friends that visited every week.
am I no longer an amusing sideshow?
Why must being healthy feel so sickening?