Me canso, a veces

A veces me canso de este cuerpo.

De que duela sin permiso.

De pensar cada bocado, siempre.

De saber que va a doler después.

De moverme con cuidado, siempre.

De tensarme ante cualquier vaivén.

De esperar el dolor que va a llegar después.

De no salir sin el remedio, nunca.

De tener que acordarme de eso siempre.

De mirar hacia adentro, siempre.

De no poder olvidarme del cuerpo nunca.

Del dolor.

Físico, emocional, social.

De la lucha silenciosa.

Me canso.

A veces.

I Get Tired, Sometimes

On the exhaustion of living alert to the body, to pain, and to what may come afterwards.

Sometimes I get tired of this body.

Of it hurting without permission.

Of having to rethink every bite, always.

Of knowing it will hurt afterwards.

Of having to move carefully, always.

Of getting tense with every movement.

Of waiting for the pain to come afterwards.

Of not being able to go anywhere without the pills, never.

Of having to remember them, always.

Of having to look inward, always.

Of never being able to forget about my body.

Of the pain.

Physical, emotional, social.

Of the silent struggle.

I get tired.

Sometimes.