I don't remember much from the hospital

The white walls

The smell of clean diseases

The prick of a needle in my arm

The dizziness becoming clear again

I don't remember when the doctor told me

I had type one diabetes

I was in a haze

In the ICU

On the first day of freshman year

I remember coming home

A quiet song playing over the radio

As silent tears fell down my face

As the realization hit me

I would never be normal

I remember laying on the floor

Of the kitchen in our new house

Looking at carbs

Numbers, high numbers

And the dread of the needle I would now have to inject

I don't remember my first day of school

The feeling of being terrified

The heavy backpack

The nervousness of being excluded

But I found friends

I remember the first session with my therapist

Severe depression

She said

I was in denial

And I was

I remember today

The struggle of poking my sensetive stomach with a needle

The struggle of making myself do it

The new therapist telling me it's PTSD

Telling myself to do it anyway

And not doing it

I will remember the day

When I can prick my finger without flinching

When I can put that needle in and not care

When I can walk into an ICU again

When I don't get scared because I can control this

I know I can