just something i wrote a few minutes ago. since the withdrawal this week i really have nothing to do. it's not real good, but it's how i'm feeling. and really how i've felt since i first got sick. i double spaced every few lines incase people had trouble reading the whole thing, so it's still all one poem, just broken up. start// you probably won't ever know who we are. the fibromyalgics, the ones with chronic fatigue syndrome, the "invisible diseases." you wouldn't think we're sick, but i'd bet you we beg to differ. we're the people who spend most of their life just trying to get out of bed. the ones who drag ourselves through the day, then take numerous pills just to get four hours of sleep. you won't ever know who we are, because "but you look healthy," is an everyday sentence in our lives, and because we don't want to be pitied. we just want to be recognized. we hear people complain about how their muscles hurt from exercising. you want to scream at them, tell them they DON'T really and truly know the meaning of pain. we get bombarded by doctors, half of them telling us that these diseases are psychosomatic, and if we just got up and exercised, we would be cured. but if you have one of these diseases, you know better than to listen to them. i don't think you could ever know what a chronic disease feels like, living your life day by day, WISHING that what you had would just kill you. but you won't get that reprieve. so you sit back, take the insults and the "are you contagious?" remarks. and hope someday they come up with a cure. though i guess the disease would have to be considered real to be worth a cure. but we'll wait. we're always waiting. after all, we're the victims of chronic disease. //end. like i said, it's not great. just thought some people might feel the same way. -danielle.