Dry Eye Disease as DABDA

WRITTEN BY STEVEN C. WRIGHT, EDITED BY ADRIENNE AUCLAIR

DENIAL: and it’s funny because the acronym for dry eye disease is DED, which sounds like dead. and it’s funny because if I do enough cardio, I will circulate the inflammation out of my eyes, which is funny because that must mean that the only thing that’s chronic is my bad workout ethic. and it’s funny because nobody believes that chronic disease, on me, is anything but a joke. and it’s funny when I wait for the punchline. and as I wait for the sound of the audience laughter, it’s funny how focusing with my ears will burn my eyes. and it’s funny how tomorrow I will wake up red. and it will be funny when I go, “well, there’s always tomorrow.” and it’ll be funny when tomorrow will be. and it’s funny because tomorrow never is.

ANGER: and it’s fucking hilarious that these are the just deserts of someone who lies to their optometrist. that I replaced my contacts every two weeks. that I didn’t often sleep in them. that I was washing with soap every single time I took them out and didn’t wear them the entire day. and it’s fucking hilarious how I didn’t see a bad thing coming. and it’s fucking hysterical how I did, in fact, shield my eyes. and it’s my life’s biggest joke that I won’t ever really know, for sure, what’s caused this. and it’s my life’s biggest punchline that I hold peace talks with my eyes, but they’re too angry, too burning red to negotiate.

BARGAINING: and I will slap my knee as I beg for an answer in an A deficiency, injecting carrot juice into my scleras, turning them red to burnt sienna, thinking how much vitamin do you need? and I will walk a few miles on a treadmill each day until I wash my eyes in sweat, thinking I am made of eyedrops and I will work for my prescription. and I will waste my money on supplements and burn my face on warm compresses and I will slap my knee until I only see white. until I only see the whites of my eyes. and until I see white, I will only see red.

DEPRESSION: and it’s a complete joke.

ACCEPTANCE: and it’s a great bit

of strength that I need to cry when I can’t

make myself make tears. and it’s a great bit of strength I need to use a screen. and it’s a great big shame that my eyes forgot how to breathe. inhale, inhale, inhale. my eyes are choking on air because they became gills. inhale, inhale, inhale. in September, my doctor will say that I look better, and I will disagree. inhale, inhale, inhale. I will want to scream tears at him, and I won’t be able to. inhale, inhale, inhale. and I will leave his office with a chronic dis-

illusionment

and it’s a great bit of strength that I need when I need to cry, but I can't make myself make tears. but I can still breathe. inhale, inhale, ex-

ist.
      exhale.

-ABOUT THE AUTHOR-

Steven C. Wright (he/him) is a Queer poet and prose author from Edison, New Jersey. He has a B.A. in English from Rutgers University-New Brunswick, and runs a small poetry workshop group every week. His work has appeared in Frontier Poetry, Serotonin Press, BRAWL, and elsewhere.