I wish you would

I wish you would see the real me, the me that no one sees.

I wish you could see through the denial of what I have in your mind.

I wish you would see the me that struggles every day.

I wish you would see how hard it is for me to maintain this vision of wellness that you expect me to project.

I wish you could see how hard it is for me to live with this pain day in and day out.

I wish you could see your own fear that you push onto me when you tell me to get over it or just push through, like it’s just a bad day and not the disease that is killing me.

I wish you would believe me when I tell you the truth of what is happening to me, and what my doctors are telling me.

I wish you could see that I need you more than just in name, in title. That I need you to actually be a parent, a supporter, a friend.

I wish you would stop being passive aggressive when I tell you I don’t feel well, and not brush it off like I’m being lazy or dramatic or not willing to give my all.

I wish you would help me financially as much as you help yourself.

I wish just once you would ask me if I need help, if there’s anything you could do for me.

I wish you would see how scared I am.

I wish you would see how frail I am.

I wish you could see that deep down inside I’m just a girl who never asked for this, never wanted this.

I wish you would accept me for who I am, all of me.

I wish you could accept that even though my body has changed I’m still me, and that I didn’t want to look like this. It was out of my control.

I wish you could see past the weight gain, see past the medications, and the sickness, and just love me.

I wish you would love me as much as you love everyone else, and treat me as an equal, not an outcast.

I wish you would stop pretending to the world how great you are, how supportive you are, and show how really cold you are.

I wish you would tell everyone that I asked you for help and that you told me I didn’t earn it.

I wish you would tell everyone the truth, that you have not given me even 10% of the support I really need, even though you are one of the people I need it the most from.

I wish you would love me like everyone thinks you do, how you tell everyone you do. I wish it didn’t feel like a lie.

I wish you knew how hard it was for me to get out of bed today, how painful it was just to grip the sheets and pull back the covers.

I wish you could understand how hard it was to have someone help dress me, how hard it is as a 35 year old woman, to have someone else help me put my underwear on.

I wish you could see how I struggle to do even the simplest things, like pour myself a glass of water, or even lift the glass to my lips.

I wish you could see the real me, the one that is in pain every day and just wants this to end.

I wish you would treat me with the love and respect that I deserve, and give me the support you tell everyone you give, the support you have deluded yourself into thinking you give.

I wish everyone saw the truth of what is happening to me. I wish people truly understood and believed me when I tell them I am dying. I am truly dying. It could be a year, it could be ten. But the truth is I will probably go before almost everyone I know, including my parents.

I wish you would all just understand how hard that is for me to process. How hard I struggle with my mortality. How hard I struggle with everything.

I wish you all knew how little I have in this world. How I am close to bankruptcy, that I have bills piling up, and that I’m about to lose the roof over my head. I wish you could understand how many people I have in my life that could change my circumstances in a minute, keep me from homelessness, truly take care of me, but choose to do nothing. People who lie and tell everyone how supportive they are of me and understand how ill I am but would rather spend money on trips, shopping, eating out, and material things. If only they could look inside themselves and see that if they sacrificed one present to themselves, I could be housed for a year, or for life.

I wish you could understand how little and terrible they make me feel when I ask for even the smallest amount of help. I wish you could understand that they told me I didn’t earn their love or their help, and that they don’t need to take care of me.

 I wish you could understand that this is my reality. It has been since before I was sick. That this is what I’ve dealt with for years.

I wish I wasn’t dying. I wish I could be happy. I wish the world I knew wasn’t the world I live in.

I wish a lot of things.


My last trip to the hospital ^

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