the color orange, and other things twisted by chronic illness

sisyphus

i make this joke a lot

about how i feel like sisyphus

but the rock he is forced to carry with him

is the muscle in my body

forever tensed like stone.

and his uphill climb

that never seems to go anywhere

is treatment.

see i go to physical therapy

three times a week.

i do my exercise

four times a week.

i take supplements

every morning.

i eat carefully

every day.

i take my sleeping medication

every night.

all like clockwork.

taking baby steps

up a hill

dragging the rocks

in my body

along with me.

only to fall 

to the bottom of the hill

when a flare

decides to

rear its ugly head.

it 

is 

relentless.

but when i hear of sisyphus

i often hear the phrase

"one must imagine sisyphus happy."

and 

i can.

i do.  

i must.

because

if i continue uphill

every time i fall

i get to

hear my best friend's laughter

see the most unreal sunsets 

that the sky has to offer

cry over beautiful words

learn baffling truths

and so

so much more.

for me

this relentless climb

is the price of admission

for living.

and

honestly

for what i get out of the deal

one must imagine

i can be happy

with paying this price.