Having cancer really sucked.
But not as much as the way cancer wouldn’t let me feel.

I don’t know if it was my will or the saline that numbed me,
never knowing if I was on the side of life or death.

People stayed at arm’s length—
or maybe I pushed them there,
to keep them safe, or to protect myself.
And who did it leave worse off?

Maybe cancer stopped me feeling,
or maybe it was the sertraline.
I felt so sure and unsure all at once,
lost between survival and forgetting why I should care.

One day, I’m grateful to be here,
to still breathe, to watch the world turn.
Other times, I feel unworthy,
like those I’ve lost deserved this place more than me.

Cancer stopped me feeling,
or maybe I did.

Even now, I wonder which side of the fence I belong on,
grateful one moment, hollow the next.
Cancer fucking sucked.