I apologise in advance for disappointing you, but I fear that I am not enough for you.
All that I am.
All that I am not.
And, I don’t know how to be more than this… especially at the moment.
What do I do?
Which road do I take?
When is the right time?
How do I do it?
I am unable to offer what I used to.
I am still selfless, but more selfish.
Most times I don’t listen to full sentences as my brain is weak and lacks in concentration, so forgive me if you have to repeat things.
I might need to hold onto you to walk, and some days I won’t be able to walk at all, but I will try every day for you. I will push myself until I fall.
The nausea will stop me from speaking some days, but on these days I will try to be a better listener.
I will put up a defence wall when I feel threatened, and I will let you win every argument because I don’t have the energy to spare on fighting you.
I fear that the progress I have made will never be enough, as I will never be the person I was before this.
Each day will forever remain a challenge, and I will forever be different to how you once remembered me.
I promise you, though, that I am trying to be more than this illness.
I am trying to be more, for you.
I relish in your energy, using it as a temporary bandaid for my symptoms.
I will brave each bad storm, in hope that when it passes, we can walk hand in hand through the puddles together, all of the way to our rainbow.
I want you to note my flaws, and accept them. Maybe in time I can remould them into something beautiful.
I want forehead kisses when the days are dull and my heart feels empty.
I want you to glide your tongue over every inch of my skin, reminding me that there is a warmer, softer feeling beyond chronic pain.
I want to be reminded of the world outside of this plague of disease.
I want you to love all of me, like I love all of you.