Soliloquy of a crippled soul ☾𖤓؛༊ 𓆤

I often think about sick people alot ,

How they are abandoned in a conspace of a hospital, petrified that their disease can swallow them whole at any instance and in a jiffy , their existence will be utterly wiped from this world.

They go away thinking that they have lost love to disease , persecuted and plagued by dirty blood, that they are entirely insufferable, but what they do not know is that there were souls connected to them that suffered them happily.

We always wish to have things that are euphonious, too see so much of the world that it becomes jarringly clear what our place in it is , the feeling of leaving an impact , of being contemptuously fortunate.

And the only world that people who have been robbed by disease see are white walls.

Society has it entombed that if u acquire a disease, u are to be defined by it , but why should it be so!?

Sickly people have never done anything to deserve their malady, they bleed like rivers , grieve like the rain , have lungs filled with borrowed air from millions of trees , souls shaped by soil and unfathomable stars locked inside of them that are waiting to be set free. To be treated like a casino with no poker , a bar with no alcohol , a library with no books , a body with no funk and whimsy just because upheaval barged into their homes is bigoted and prejudiced.

Disease takes away any sense that u had for a thing , you thought was completely yours.

I wonder if insects think of us as a disease, we are selfish , we take away life and then wish for us to be given more of it.

And i am a victim to a mentality that wants to consume, i want a life and beautiful one at that because all the years i have tolerated so far do not feel mine at all.

I feel like a shadow hovering over a body that is mine to call living a life that is controlled by everyone but me.

I hope for even the tiniest speck of deranged happiness before disease,time and death decide to make me theirs.

-Prachi Dhawan