Having Type 1 Diabetes

My body has never been anything but an enemy
I inhale and smell rot
The skin peeling away from my ribcage
A youth promised but not delivered
Death looms on the horizon as a tomorrow
or next week
or now
A constant lingering friend
What is there of me left
What is there to see
Scar tissue over scar tissue
Death taps me on the shoulder and says hello
A life companion
A reassuring fact
Who am I without it?
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You know, I hear often that people my age think they're immortal
and I don't understand
Death feels like a blanket around my shoulders
Like a beckoning finger
Like it's waiting in the wings to take me out before the second act
A jealous understudy
Trying to perform in a play that can only end in tragedy
When have I not felt death breathing down my neck
Waiting for me, expectant
knowing I'll come home sooner rather than later
When have I not been keenly aware of the many ways I could die
Thinking of my brittle bones
Of organs that betray me
I can only remember being like this
It's almost a comfort
When do I get to feel immortal?
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Do you understand?
No.
Sometimes I feel like I'm fifty
Exhausted
I wanted to write this to share but it's mine
It's personal
Tucked behind my ribs
A ball of broken cells in an organ that rots without purpose
Taking up space in a body that's never felt like mine
Diabetes is a weight
It's a nametag plastered on every day
It reads
Sick
Chronic
Weak
I'm 21 years old and I still think it's my fault
I hold out my hands
Pricked fingers
Sugar blood
What could I have done?
I'm too old to feel this helpless
Too young to feel this tired
What can I do to feel better?