a 14-degree curvature of the spine. bulging and desiccation of the thoracic and lumbar discs. pinching of the sciatic nerves.

rheumatoid arthritis present in the hands, wrists, shoulders, hips, knees, and ankles.

osteoarthritis present in both sides of the hips.

type-1 marsh lesion in the duodenum, corroborative of celiac disease.

elevated ANA two and a half times the normal range within the last six months.

a new but strong allergy to skin adhesives.

frequent sinus tachycardia with accompanying left-side pain. possible RVH to consider in any future imaging and testing.

extreme, pervasive gender dysphoria.

a continuous, mild-to-severe risk of suicidality.

i have become familiar with words and phrases i never wanted to know.

each one, tacked upon my flesh with the dull stab of a doctor’s ballpoint pen.

each one, an additional sentence of pain to be served in this prison of flesh and bone.

i have become familiar with sterile medical settings i never wanted to be in.

each one, a cage that produces only terror and sorrow.

each one, an environment meant to be for healing, but instead acts as a battleground.

with a broken body, and an exhausted mind, i must continue to fight to prove these things are real.

with a shredded spirit, and a heart that has been sapped of strength, i must continue seeking care to stay alive.

i have been given far too many medications than i ever wanted to take.

each one, causing more onslaught in my esophagus and gastrointestinal tract.

each one, providing little to no relief for my agony, despite insistent promises that they would.

i have been given so much false hope and insincerity.

it is funny how convincing and honest some people think they are when speaking to the sick.

however, i have not even the energy to laugh.

it is less funny, and more tragic, this rotting system that the sick are made to navigate, that places profit values over that of human lives.

however, i have not even the energy to do anything about it.

and isn’t that the whole point of it?

disability and sickness are two things that people, for some reason, wholeheartedly believe will never strike them, until it does.

it struck me early enough such that i am always aware of that fact now.

but when will it get you?

no, not “if.” stop saying that. the only “if” is whether you’ll live long enough, but it will happen at some point. 

for the children, and those of more innocent and pure heart- the ones that still see the good in humanity and have optimism for our future as a species- i feel sorrow for them. they are the least deserving of their misfortunes.

i am somewhere in the middle.

the bigots, the old animals crippled by lung disease and gasping for breath after a lifetime of spewing hatred; the fools, the political pundits dying after their pseudoscience “treatments” completely backfired, taking how many innocents with them; i do not pity them. 

i will be waiting here in this hell for them. i will stick around solely to remind them that they have deserved- no, earned- this.

i will do this until i, too, die, in the vain and feeble hopes of convincing myself that i do not deserve mine.