Often in my daydreams, old friends come to mind
I pray under my breath, that life might treat you kind

I can't, I won't, I don't, write, speak, or call
Whatever that reason may be, my love is with you all

What a pleasure it will be, to see you again one day
And should you ever cross my path, I have a couch where you can stay.

By. Lauren

The word sick is poison to my lips.
The word sick makes me want to cry.
The word sick makes my stomach churn.
157 million people in our world suffer from some form of chronic illness.
These people go their whole lives learning to spell diseases many doctors are unable to pronounce.
Hospital visit after hospital visit yet we refuse to claim ourselves sick.
The word sick gives me the sense of failure.
The sense of caving into my chronic illness.
The word sick makes me want to cry.
Because the word sick means I have given up all hope that resides in my mind.

Love is not a cage,
i want to set you free