faulty

I've been thinking a lot about disease. Lately, I wonder if being the honorary owner of one puts my very being into a different category in the universe.  Like a roped off corner for the sick.  I wonder how much I've changed. Not just mentally, but in my whole cellular make-up.  Has my worth lessened? I want to hate this disease inside of me, but the truth is that it is a part of me.  It's not foreign nor a stranger, it was born from my own cells, my own nerves and blood. Therefore, I suppose it rightfully belongs to me.  Does that mean I should love it? Embrace it?  

Every so often, I quiet myself, I sit in silence and I just breathe.  I focus on my body and how it feels inside, how sometimes I can feel the disease moving.  I wonder if the way I feel is an intrinsic part of me and me alone.  Has disease become normal? I recognize that I dont even know what it feels like to be healthy anymore.  I can't help but question whether that makes me fundamentally different from other "non-diseased" people in my life.  Do I feel things differently?  Do I undertand things differently?  Do I prioritize differently?  Is my value less than that of my peers?  Are my days numbered any differently? 

Throughout the onslaught of emotions I frequently have.. there is one that that is constant.  One wish I ask of the stars, and it is not to change this disease inside of me. No, what I really want, what I wish for is for someone to say that though you wouldn't know it from the outside looking at me, they understand that things in my body are usually always a struggle, they understand that a "good" day is still not really good. I want someone to know that I am damaged, to understand it, and love me anyway.