The world, much like the cover of a book, judges us quickly at first glance.
The way our nails scrape along our body.
The remnants of skin we leave behind.
Many focus so methodically on the outside, that no one realizes the war within.
Eczema constructs the deepest of pain inside of us; the parts you dont see.
The weight of our true story is too hard to tell for some.
Many are hesitant to speak Eczemas true havoc for fear they will fall to ruin.
With crooked flesh, a superficial display, only keeps the eyes from seeing what brews beneath.
Every word uttered to us is kept filed away and examined further through guilt and shame.
Its just a skin condition.
Have you tried …?
Why are you flaring?
Why hasnt it gotten better?
We are more than this organ we market.
We are weary and afraid and paranoid.
We are brave and resilient and complex.
Every day is a battle of the mind, not just the flesh.
I know the effort it takes to keep going, to soldier on through the loss.
It is the least fun rollercoaster I have ever experienced.
We are as sensitive as our skin.
We are the houseplant that never thrives.
We are the irrational equation.
We are the chessboard without her queen.
Our mental stability should be just as important as our skin nay, more.
So should our self-worth.
This is just a bag we live in graced to us by the gods.
Some have bags more equipped with filaggrin, and genetic balance, and wealth.
We are no less than them, just more curious and adept at navigating landmines.
Its all we can do.
But, we, the soul inside, are just like everyone else.
I am just like everyone else.
To learn the patterns of our internal scars, not the scales swimming on the surface.
