August 17, 2010
By Anonymous

Two shirts are packed:
one for my sport

another for my shame.
I wear one, too;
it hides beneath

my hoodie - it's the same
one I've worn each
and every day

so you don't know my name,
but rather, you
know me by my

hoodie, my sign and claim.
I don't shake hands
at school. I don't

like to join their games
or speak up in
class, or high-five;

me, so limp and lame.
If I shake hands,
one might know and-

"Oh, gross!" they'd exclaim;
If I raise my arm,
one might look and-

"She's the one to blame
for that smell, ha!"
I do not laugh.

I have become tame.
I hide at home
pen in hand, and

write the day away.

The author's comments:
My friend, Amelie (she has given me permission to only give her first name), has suffered from severe hyperhidrosis since she was twelve years old. Her self-esteem had taken huge hits because of it, and her body, as well. Her teachers are cruel and criticize her work for being 'sloppy' when her hand smears the ink on the page.

I really don't mind her sweating at all, and she actually sweats less when she's around me.

I love her loads, and accept her as is. Everyone has their issues, it's just some issues are more physical than others.

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