Whether you are living with a condition that reshapes your daily life, or you are the one holding someone else together, your story matters here. This wing is for the exhaustion no one sees, the small victories no one celebrates, and the love that keeps showing up even when it hurts.
the walls of room 314 know that my father sang to me even when his throat was raw from tubes they know that my mother slept in a chair for forty-seven nights and never once complained they know that...
my mother forgets my name now but her hands still know how to braid my hair her fingers move through the strands like they are reading a story her body wrote long before her mind decided to leave i s...