Stigma

I have an illness in my head 

that people mistake for me. 

Shame, what a shame, 

I am a shame, 

wrapped in skin 

too tight for breath. 

Am I nothing more? 

I am more, aren’t I?

They want me to 

learn, learn to 

live comfortably, as secondary, 

as sidekick, 

as background.

Yes, blend to background, 

because I am ashamed. 

I’m sorry, 

I am nothing more.

About the Author

Rebecca Andrade is a student at Arcadia studying creative writing. She may or may not get all her best ideas after long car rides or brainstorming in the most confined places she can find.