To My Body

Dear Body,

I thought we had an understanding.

Because even though I don't know what you're doing or why you're doing it most of the time (and I don't think you know either), I thought we'd reached an understanding.

You hurt me. I don't know why. Screaming and hating you didn't work; neither did blood tests, doctors, and drugs. So I've reached a place of acceptance. Mostly.

And for your part, you're slowly improving. Some days, you only come armed with half your weapons. An anchor to weigh me down and tire me out, but the jack hammer will not show up, giving my head a rest. And you've stopped twisting and squeezing my intestines. Mostly.

So I thought we had reached a compromise.

I would treat you kindly and with respect, while you would gradually retire your instruments of pain.

So why, on the second to last day of school, did you let it all come rushing back? I am doing my best not to be angry, but I would like a reason. Or at the very least, just keep the germs and everything else at bay, for a few more days.

Please.

Love, Me