April 21, 2025
by Elise Ford

I sometimes feel like I’m not meant to live. Not in the suicidal way, no—it’s not like that. It’s more like… when you look at an animal that’s just not built for the life it’s been given. Like how horses, with all their weight on their middle fingers or toes, can just fall over and die if the weather shifts too suddenly. That’s how I feel sometimes, like my body wasn’t made for this world, and I’m constantly just about to break.

I get sick when I’m stressed, like my body can’t handle the weight of my own emotions. I get sick when I have my period, and it’s worse now than when I was younger, like the floodgates open and there’s no stopping it. I remember when I was a kid, I’d bleed through everything, all the time. It was so embarrassing, but I didn’t really understand what was happening. It was just something that came with being me, and I thought it was normal.

But now? I can hardly ever sleep. My body just won’t shut down when I want it to. And I get these pains in my back, or sometimes in my chest, like something inside me is just ready to snap. I faint sometimes, usually in the middle of the day when I’m doing nothing but standing still, like my body is trying to tell me that it just can’t keep going, but it never really stops.

Lately, it’s like I can feel the sickness building up in my throat, like I’m going to throw up, but it doesn’t happen. The nausea just sits there, and I’m stuck with it, never fully expelling anything, just stuck with the sensation of being full of something I can’t get rid of.

And my hands—God, my hands. In the winter, they swell up, get stiff, and ache like I’ve been holding onto something heavy for hours. But I haven’t been holding anything. They just do that on their own, without asking for permission. It’s hard to hold anything, like I’m a stranger in my own skin.

And I’m only 22. I shouldn’t be feeling like this. I shouldn’t feel like my body is already giving out on me, like I’m already worn out. It’s just so tiring and frustrating, all these little things stacking up one after another, and there’s no end to it.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I don’t know how to fix it. But I wish I didn’t feel so disconnected from my own body. I wish I didn’t feel like I’m living in a body that wasn’t made for me.