Chronically Ill | A Letter To My Pain

Dear Pain,

People tell me that you are all in my head, made up, non-existent. You stab me, you burn me, and you do it repeatedly, relentlessly. I am left with no marks or scars; nothing to prove that you are, or ever were there, real, true. Tears roll down my face, sobs burst out. You haunt me. How can I explain you? You are something that has no proof, you are merely words and numbers to others who don’t understand. Some will choose to believe me, others, to ignore me. But I know you’re there. And I know you are just vying for my undivided attention.

You leave me to wonder why you chose me out of the millions in the world. Wonder if you will ever find the door and just leave. I want to fight you, and some days I will. I want to give up, and some days I will. I want to think I am stronger than you. I am, yet I still break. I know I can do better, be stronger, be tougher. But here is the problem; things are always easier said than done.

I thought you had left, exited, departed. I was wrong. That is what breaks my heart the most. Temporarily I learnt to enjoy a life without you. It was better, happier, simpler. I feel tied down and heavy with your return. I have forgotten how to break free, I can’t find the key. I know I can leave you behind; I have done before. But again, everything is easier said than done. Maybe I must accept my life will never be completely free of you again. Maybe I must be that strong individual that people see me to be.

You make me cry.

You make me weak.

You make me vulnerable.


You make me strong.

You make me brave.

You make me, me.

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