I love to write, about everything but I have never openly written about my scleroderma, lupus diagnosis. When I was diagnosed, I wanted to tell others about it to raise awareness for an underfunded disease, a disease which is not seen. I wanted people to understand but all I got were demeaning eyes, pity looks that made me crawl into a shell, where I became hostile and guarded. Guarded with my feelings, to my scars.
I'm trying to remember your face, and it comes in pieces and sometimes all together. I'm trying to remember how your eyebrows creased up when you were tensed or how your eyes sparkled when you were truly happy. I'm trying to remember how you used to curse on every other slow-moving driver on the freeway and then felt bad the next minute. I'm trying to remember the touch of your hand and the soft peck on the cheek. I'm trying to remember the love of bands on your wrist, the one complemented with the leather jacket and the vintage watch that did not work. I'm trying to remember the waves in your hair and the scar you got when you were little. I'm trying to remember the wacky promises you kept to the utmost drunken calls we had. I'm trying to remember how you were the closest, even being thousands of miles apart. I'm trying to remember how you made me fall in love with myself by being in love with you. I'm trying to remember the last time I held you, not knowing it could be the last. I'm trying to remember you being the most beautiful thing I ever stumbled upon. I'm still trying to remember the name of Love, and it’s yours, the one I’m trying to “forget.”
In the midst of your chaos, you will meet someone