I walk across the loop between the athletic centre and the main campus building. The cold fall breeze blows my hair in front of my face. As I push it away, I look at the people around me, people I don’t know. I then look at the people i know: my friends, my family, my classmates, my instructors, my coworkers, the kids at work. How many of them, like me, have an invisible illness? How many of them have an understanding of the rigorous schedules, symptoms and unrelenting attention required to manage their disease? How many of them fight their body day in and day out and still, like me, look totally healthy on the outside despite what may be going on inside or behind-the-scenes to keep them healthy?
And I will never know. Some of the above people share their stories with me. Some of them choose to keep their stories silent and invisible. And some I will never even speak to or see again.
Yet all of us, possessing an anomaly settled inside, move forward–awaiting the day where our elusive cures will come.