"But you don't look sick..."

You know the phrase "don't judge a book by it's cover?" That applies here. 

Just because I am up and moving around most days, it doesn't mean I'm not hurting all the way down to my bones. Just because I am outside, it doesn't mean the sun doesn't feel like it's actually burning my skin off. Just because I'm dressed nicely, it doesn't mean every seam in my clothes doesn't feel like a million needles stabbing my skin, scraping across my body every time I move and my clothes shift. Just because I'm smiling, it doesn't mean I'm not fighting the biggest battle of my life. 

And, really though...what does sick look like? 

For almost two years, I had a port in my chest. But most of the time, it was covered up. Does that mean I didn't have it, just because you couldn't see it? I had it--it was there. 

As I sit here right now writing this, I feel like there are a million bugs crawling on my skin. You can't see that. If you looked at me right now, you would have no idea that I'm gritting my teeth and hoping with everything that I have that the itchy, painful feeling will go away before I rip my skin off. But I feel it--it's there. 

But why do you need to see it? Does it make it any more real just because it's visible? Does it, at the same time, make it any less painful or real just because you can't see it?

It shouldn't.