It kills me when you tell me how happy I should be – that there are hundreds of girls at our school who would kill to be me.
What you, and they, don’t know is that I would give it all up and trade places with any one of them in a heartbeat if I could.
I’d give up my looks, my intelligence, everything. Just to be healthy again. You don’t know what it’s like, to wake up every morning and be in pain. To not remember what it feels like to not hurt all over. To wonder every day how long you have until your body destroys itself, and you become a cripple.
This is why I cry at night in your bed. This is why I drink every weekend and get mad at you when we don’t go out and do things.
Because the truth is, I don’t know how much time I have left to do the things you all take for granted. And its killing a little bit of me inside, each and every day to pretend that it’s okay. That I have hope, like you do, that I’ll get better. I haven’t had any hope, not for a long time.
I just want to be healthy again.
Dear god, please, let me wake up from this nightmare.