Creative Nonfiction
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It Can Be War – Funhouse

“Are you going to have this for the rest of your life?”
“Wow. That really sucks.”

The question was put to me by a dear friend, from whom the abrupt vernacular felt comforting. The things that ‘suck’ are myriad – exhaustion, malaise, fever, low-threshold for even the mildest of illnesses, blisters. I have been relegated into a world of self-care by necessity. Self-care, or else.

I am not one to necessarily neglect my health; I know the warning signs of my body. I know I’ve had too much sugar when I get tongue ulcers – or I’ve been drinking too much if I break out – turbulence in airplanes is a direct connection to my anxiety, as is being late, and not hearing from friends in a ‘reasonable’ amount of time. These are the banalities of being a human in a body. But I know it can be much worse – it can be war.


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