Chronic Fatigue Syndrome
WATCHING

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WELL, WHAT IS CFS?
REALIZATION
CFS FUN FACTS
BANNER EXCHANGE
WATCHING
MY FIGHT WITH CFS
To You NORMALS
SOMETIMES THEY LISTEN
Psychological Aspects
DAILY LOG
FUNNY THOUGHTS ON CFS
A DAY IN MY LIFE
MY LIFE
UNFAIR
I'M TRYING!!
THANKSGIVING
Normal. . .Almost
Growing Up Is Hard Enough
SIMPLE TASKS
I'M SCARED
BELIEVE ME
COMFORTABLE
SWEET 16
NOT EXACTLY EVEN
CFS POETRY
MY FAVORITE CFS SITES and MY WEBRINGS
OK, DONE NOW
SITES I LIKE
NOTHING BETTER TO DO
POEMS I LIKE
QUOTES
CONTACT ME (adoptables cont.)

I feel a little silly, beacuase I will watch myself.
I will sit in front of the mirror and stare at my reflection, watching myself not changing. I will brush my hair, wash my face, straighten my clothes and run my hands down my body, admiring the contours. I will stare.
Sometimes I will be taken aback by how lovely I've become. I know I'm slimmer and my eyes have gotten larger and I'll be amazed.
Other times, I'll feel ugly, out of place. I'll stretch my hands above my head, not wanting to touch any part of myself. Because when I do, I am reminded I am not built like a model and I am not beautiful.
But every time I look in the mirror I will be shocked. I will be awed beacause I look the same as I did yesterday. Sure, it's all a tiny bit different, but you wouldn't be able to tell if you we're examining me as if I were a specimen.
I don't understand why my soul doesn't shine through my eyes and why my body doesn't hum with energy or glow with passion. I'm curious as to why I've been 5'5 1/2" since I've gotten sick. I wonder why you can't measure my growth.
I don't know why I can't see my broken heart, bent body, newfound knowledge in the mirror.
I've grown so much over the past year, when I try to remember something-no matter how unimportant- I know it will not stay in my head for long. I'm so filled up with new ideas, new views, I see with new eyes; how can I be bothered to remember a who, what, where, when, how or why?
I wonder why doctors want to know what my body weighs, why not my heart? How come they shove my against the wall and record a number that grazes my head, why not the height of my spirit?
I'm curious why everybody wrote in my yearbook "don't ever change!" Don't they know change is inevitable? I'm sorry! I couldn't help it! I don't mean to be different!
I'm still me under all these lessons that were forced on me. I'm still a kid, even though I feel more akin to the elderly, not the teens.
I will watch myself, and I will wonder why I'm still young. I'll laugh at myself and think of how I sat in front of the mirror and waited for my eyes to change color because my mother said they didn't always look the same.
I will read my old books and revel in the innocence that I felt so long ago. Every now and then, I can feel it.
Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be what I once was.
Other times I'll wonder if I'll ever grow up and not believe I'm Cinderella.
I don't know what I'll become, who I am, or what I know.
But I'm watching.