Kristen Ruchalski
Nobody Cares
CW: strong language, surgery
I know they're talking.
Whispers on the street tell me.
They can't understand.
Why is she acting so mean?
Was it the brain surgery?
Brain surgerIES.
MULTIPLE.
WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I BEGGED FOR HELP?
WHO CARED WHEN I COULDN'T CONTINUE?
Not you.
Not them.
Not anyone.
Lost and alone in a strange new existence.
Everyone treating me like they never noticed my persistence.
Begged and pleaded for care.
But as always, nobody was there.
Now you want me to calm down.
How the fuck is that?
Have you looked around?
I don't know who I am anymore.
This stranger lives inside.
Come take a peek into my psyche.
Hope you enjoy the ride.
Please Fix Me (For a miserable ER doctor that treated me horribly during a desperate search for answers.)
CW: strong language, suicidal ideation, death, drugs
I'm begging you to help me
Ease the pain I'm in.
What do you want?
Some prescription morphine?
He's judging me.
Arms crossed.
Leaning on the wall.
Offering nothing more than pills and his condescending stare.
Sir, please help me.
I am not seeking pills.
I'm searching for answers and a cure for all my ills.
You must know something.
You're a doctor, after all.
I do not know what ails you.
Are you sure you didn't fall?
What were you doing when the pain started?
I woke up this way.
And when did it start?
4 months and a day.
No way you've had this headache for 4 months and a day.
Doc, I promise you.
Please believe what I say.
No, don't red flag me.
I did not ask for pills.
Fuck it.
Go ahead.
I'll take them all and hopefully it kills.
The pain or me.
At this point I really don't care.
But you didn't do your job.
My death will be your burden to bear.
Not a Warrior
If you call me a warrior,
What of my bad days?
Am I no longer strong?
Am I no longer fighting?
Do I lose this battle?
Perhaps.
Its an unfair title.
Its a war I'll never win.
A constant fight to exist.
So when you call me a warrior
It doesn't feel good.
Its feels an impossible standard.
To live up to your expectations.
So then on "good" days
I am no longer believed.
Oh, but look at you go.
Strong and resilient.
That isn't always the case.
I wasn't given a choice.
Drafted by some cruel trick.
A daily fight to exist.
I'm not a warrior.
I'm only me.
Tired and broken.
They choose not to see.
Kristen Ruchalski has been writing since a young age. Poetry has been an escape and a way to sort the emotions of being human. From grief to joy, Kristen feels everything so deeply and when thoughts begin to swirl, writing becomes therapy. She also writes music, fiction, and non-fiction with one self-published book of poetry and several books in the works. Kristen has a deep connection to nature and a never-ending love affair with the moon. Her musings can be found on her blog.