disability

i’m sorry if i don’t reply, i’m sorry for my “uh huhs”, i’m sorry for that awkward pause, i’m sorry for trying to hide it.

i didn’t catch what you said, i didn’t know what you said, i don’t know how to hide the fact i didn’t hear you, and i don’t want you to know.

i don’t want you to realise, that i’m different and that’ll never change. i don’t want you to change how you treat me, i don’t want your pity.

moving is it’s own freedom. and now that i have a new chance, i realise no one knows, and that’s an opportunity in it's own.

when you meet me, you’ll never notice a difference. until i’ve brushed my hair back behind my ear, and you see the glossy black cochlear implant, and you realize it’s not an earring.

but again, i gained and i lost, just like you. i don’t think my disability is a loss anymore. i won’t lie and say that i don’t want to be normal, but i do, i do. i want to be normal.

but i gained and i lost. and just because my different is the visible kind, it doesn’t mean i want your pity. i don’t want it, i don’t need it, it’s annoying. stop assuming i’d be normal if i could, i actually don’t. i won't.