I know I can’t possibly know what its like to be you. I’ve never had to fight for my very own life. I want you to know though that I see you.

the handfuls of hair that fall out

waking up every two hours to take more morphine

throwing up the dinner you attempted to eat

sleeping on the couch because it’s too hard to get comfortable in bed anymore

using a cane and wheelchair in what’s supposed to be the prime of your life

using a belt to keep up your sagging pants from all the weight you’ve lost

wondering which holiday or season or kid’s birthday will be your last

packing an extra pair of clothes cause you just don’t know anymore

making videos and letters so your kids have something to remember you by

everyone’s life going on around you like normal

wondering when it’s time to “give up” but also always holding out a sliver of hope for a miracle.

You are not alone. I see you.