They told me the odds were stacked against me

That with a heart in my condition

With a family history filled with roses

And my tendency to indulge in the color red and cheap chocolates

That my fate was sealed

 

But, as my stubborn teen nature demanded, I refused to become a statistic

I avoided Nicholas Sparks and his plague

I studied the immune

Landlords, corporate CEOs, politicians

I am still decently certain the cure just might be mass amount of money

 

But, honey, no vaccine of cynicism could have prepared me for you

And I’m afraid it’s terminal

All symptoms are present

My heart rhythms are no longer independent

My palms sweat when you’re near

I sing to songs that my tone deafness disagrees with

And anyone who knows the words “medical degree” could diagnose me with extreme impaired brain function in your presence

I am hopelessly and irrevocably infected by love

 

I understand why they call it love sick

For no disease has affected me so intensely

And I wouldn’t change my condition for the world

Because this infection has made my existence absolute perfection

 

When I turn the lights on, they’re brighter

When I turn the music up, the notes are more beautiful

When I make coffee, the smell is stronger and the taste of creamer is sweeter

When I look at the mirror in the morning, I see a smile

There’s always a smile

If I ever have to hold a serious face I’ll need surgery to turn the sides of my lips down

Because dopamine is flowing through my veins like new blood giving a life that qualifies as more than just living