By Anonymous
People have the funniest ideas
Of what disabled people are
And aren’t
And all too often I am told
I don’t look disabled
I’m young, not even 30
And fit the stereotypes of Western beauty
And I wasn’t born disabled
And all too often I get told
I’m too young and pretty to be disabled
I wonder if they’d still say that if they could see
The days when I wake up in so much pain that I can not move
How it wracks my body
The convulsions, the tears
But I don’t look disabled
I can walk, most days at least
I can sit and jump
And on good days I can even carry my laptop
And all too often I get told
I’m too mobile to be disabled
I wonder if they’d still say that if they could see
The lengths I have to go to, the damage it does to me
I can walk to classes, but after
I can do nothing but collapse
But I don’t look disabled
I’m a distinction average student
I achieve, I excel
Hell, I even out-perform many of my peers
And all to often I get told
I’m too smart to be disabled
I wonder if they’d still say that if they could see
The hours that I sacrifice to achieve the way they do
No job, no social life
The sleeplessness that comes from the irrational part of me
Telling me I’ve failed, that I’m stupid
That I can’t do this degree
Even though I know it’s wrong it doesn’t stop
But I don’t look disabled
I am truly blessed by the people in my life
My friends, my second family
I play games, go out for coffee
And all to often I get told
I’m too social to be disabled
I wonder if they’d still say that if they could see
The nights spent wondering if all my friends are talking about me
behind my back – the constant fear of rejection
I sabotage my own relationships
Or smaller things
I can’t make eye contact, or stop moving my hands
And I jump topics like a child on a sugar rush
But I don’t look disabled
There are none so blind as those who choose not to see
And sometimes I wonder if they’re really looking