Beep- beep. Beep- beep.

I wish this noise came from my watch, my car’s horn, or my house alarm, but it doesn’t.

The back of my left hip makes the steady music. 

This is my insulin pump, beeping every time I give myself insulin. 

Wide eyes glare at my innocent face from across the room. 

Others wander, searching left and right for the suspicious tune. 

During an exam, or while I’m on a run; I can’t turn it off! 

But I am not embarrassed. 

Although I wish I wasn’t always distracted by the constant beeping, this noise raises awareness. 

People ask what my insulin pump is doing and why it has to do it. I need insulin in order to survive. 

Type 1 Diabetes.

An autoimmune disease. My pancreas does not produce insulin. I must give my body insulin based on what I eat, my age, my blood sugar, how much I weigh, and if I am exercising, by injection or an insulin pump.

I’m at the gym, and my pump sticks to my right arm. A curious woman approaches me, assuming my insulin pump is a new iPod brand, and itching to know where she could buy one for herself. 

I chuckle.

Her ignorance is disappointing, but I see this moment as an opportunity to enlighten her with countless facts about my life.

The language of diabetes rolls off my tongue as easily as the language of a teenage girl. I initiate direct eye contact, and force my back to stand straight.

I am determined to educate more people about my life. No kid deserves this responsibility. Nobody deserves this responsibility. 

I have defined this disease. This disease does not define me. 

It is my outlook toward this disease that makes me the incredible person I am told I am; the incredible person I believe I am. 

I am determined to surpass anything put in front of me.

That is who I am.