When I was twelve and a family member accused me of stealing from their store, I was so panic stricken that I passed out. Later, in the hospital, I was told that I had been convulsing on the floor. I know I would do it again if he came to my poetry reading. I know that won’t happen, but still, even thinking about it makes me upset, and I can’t control what I think. I just wish I could be stronger than I am. I wish I couldn’t be paralyzed by the slightest glance and that I didn’t see shapes and images that aren’t there and that I could grip onto my reality even when the monsters are chasing me. And I wish I could see that there are no monsters anymore, not really. But if I could only choose one wish, I would wish that my vision would never be affected like that again, all blotting out and blank
I think, if I could just have that, I wouldn’t mind how my hands shake.