I Wonder if I'll See the Doctor - 06/20/10

When you’re sick,
when you’re not feeling well,
when you’re achy
and in pain,
and sick,
you don’t hid it.
You don’t
deny it.
You tell someone.
Because then
you can get help,
you can get a hand,
and you can relax
and get better.
There’s nothing to lose,
and everything
to gain
from reaching a hand,
not matter how
frail and pale
it may be,
out and grasping
hold of another’s
to help
steady yourself
back into the
perfect health
that you should be in.

Unless,
perhaps,
your “sick”
isn’t really a sick
like a normal sick.
No fever,
no cough,
nothing like that.

And then
there is
something to lose.

I’ve got something to lose.

You see,
whenever their friends ask,
they always smile.

They smile
and they say,
“Our daughter.”
They talk about me
like they know me.
And they should,
but they don’t.
They talk about how
amazing I am,
how perfect,
how wonderful.
They tell their friends
about how smart
and sweet
I am,
and how I’m going
to do all these great things
when I get older.
They think that I’m
so smart.
That I’m so happy
and healthy.
They think that
I know what I’m doing
and where I’m going.

They think I’m hope.

After all the dark places
we’ve been,
they look at me
and see normality,
or at least sanity,
and they get hope
that after all the
trauma
and the stress
and the broken things
and the knives
that I am alright,
that I’m not broken,
that I still have a chance.

And they don’t see
all the things
that I see.
I don’t let them.
And now,
it’s too late.
You can’t turn someone’s world
upside down
just because your world’s
been turned
upside down
and backwards
a million times.
It isn’t fair
to always be
fighting so hard
that no one sees
and then
one day just

break down

into a million
little
bloody
pieces
and expect anyone
to know what to do.
How can you draw them in,
so unexpectedly?
It’s not fair.

Neither is being alone,
but that’s just to one,
and the other option
is to many,
so my pain
is more fair
than everyone else’s.
So that’s how it should be.
How it will be.