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Letters written to problems, not people – by everyday champions, like you.
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Dear Stranger
(to an unknown man)
There aren’t many places I feel alive. The one I found was a haven for my soul to replenish. It felt like you hunted me down that night when you infiltrated my bubble & made me feel small. You stole my peace and my joy with your creepy words. The time you spoke seemed endless, and your words landed weightier than you could comprehend. In that moment I witnessed myself shrink again, in a space I was learning to be big. You diminished my hard work. I am more than what you see of me and more than what you made me feel. That shame doesn’t belong to me sir.
Female, Age 33
T1D (A Poem)
There is no intermission,
No curtain call,
No dimming lights –
Just numbers glowing in the dark.
It’s lows after midnight,
Math before breakfast,
And alarms that do not care
If I am tired.
They say “manage it” –
Like it’s a planner;
Like it fits into neat boxes.
But it lives outside the lines.
It bleeds into every moment.
I don’t think I am as afraid
Of the highs and lows,
As I am afraid
Of never getting a break.
The constant awareness –
The counting,
The calculating
The quiet fear of getting it all wrong.
Female, 17 y/o
Diabetes, Type I