I've read this several times now. It's a lovely pair of poems. My favorite stanza is the one with these lines:
I once feared that after death there was nothing
Childish, I now wish for that most of all
I can identify with that. It's something I might have written myself if you hadn't beaten me to it. Grey walls and halls, specialist after specialist… I hear you. Or at least I think I do. Maybe I'm just hearing voices again though.
Possibly stupid question: Any reason you skipped 29 in the progression for Autoimmune? 23, 25, 27… 31?
Hey @unholyghost, it's really nice to hear from you 😁!
I liked that part best too, because there is something in illness that is an ego death... I think it's important to talk about that feeling. When I was a kid I remember crying because someday I might stop existing after I die, I laughed so hard about that recently that it hurt my sides.
I wouldn't know I didn't exist anymore, oh!
It sounded like you're in the US. If you have literally any health issue at all, I'm sure you're hearing me loud and clear. Our health care system is some weird illusion. 😅 Each doctor I speak to sends me to another, until I am too tired to try for a few weeks... and then I start again with whatever my last referral was. 🤷♀ Maddening. I'm sorry to hear that you can relate, it's a crap hand of cards.
Not a stupid question at all, sharp eyes! 😁 Er, it's a year I haven't processed yet. That's probably its own set of poems! 😂 Thank you for the awesome comment, wishing you empathetic doctors and humane solutions. Nothing is forever... right? 🌞
I am indeed in the US. I gave up on our doctors a long time ago. When it comes to mental health, Western medicine can't help me for shit. Just give me psychedelics and energy work and I'll be fine :)
Thanks for the explanation re: 29. I hope you find the appropriate poetry for that year :)