I’ve never had glass shoved across the floor or starved to death,
But I know what it’s like to be alone.
I spent eight years of my life believing that I would never feel friendship
And would always sit alone with my head vacuumed into a lunch bag.
I was, in my elementary imagination, an old Barbie,
Constantly being thrown in a cardboard box, moved, and eventually forgotten.

But these are God’s blessings.

He gave me pills so impossible to swallow that I wanted to quit,
But he knew I was strong enough.

When they toss names I slingshot pride,
I catapult worth,
I fire truth,
I beam beauty,
Real beauty from a healthy body nourished by trial and error.

But a virus does not die.

And mine is a strong virus that covers continents and threatens apocalypse inside of me.
I feel it every. single. day.
My very own nest of maggots eating me flesh from bone.

It formed from silence,
Empty words and not enough.
So close, but not enough.
I held my hand held shaking over a red button for months,
Unsure if I was going to make it another day,
Because all of a sudden I had people.

I have people.

I had spent my whole life waiting for people.

When I found them, I thought the sickness had collapsed.
But now, I’m addicted to people.

I guess I’ll have to go ask for another prescription,

Sit down at the table, bend my knees and say
“God, People Scare Me.”