Batteries (about invisible illnesses/disabilities)

I need to eat batteries every day

There's a battery slot in my stomach, like, the normal port you have in LED lights, or in a TV remote.

They put it in the last time I was at the hospital.

I change them every day, so I don't die.

But when someone asks why I walk weird, and I tell them, no one believes me. They say: "people that need to eat batteries don't look like that!", or "people that need batteries have a mobile, wheeled charger!"

But...I have a prescription for them. There's no other way to get them...How could I get them if I didn't need them?

"Is it so hard for you rich kids to try charging at home, like us?!", they say, "people actually need these, you're just making up excuses to skip school, while people die of acid deficiency!", they echo.

Do they think I like eating batteries?

I wish I could be like the rest and just pop in a charging cable every once a week, like they do. 

My life would be so much easier. I could do so many things, be in so many places...

They don't allow heavy metals on planes.

I could wear tight pants, fancy bralets...

And my face wouldn't look like a fucking warfront...

I could do sports, and dance, and drink alcohol, and eat fastfood...

But all I eat are batteries.

I had a boyfriend once, but when it was summer and I wore a short top, he could see the light from the port shining through my stomach.

I didn't wear anything short since.

I have a period every three months if lucky.

The acids from the batteries are making my ovaries hurt.

They offered me drugs, like, hard ones, at the doctor's office, but I didn't take them. How can I call for help in case of symptoms of my port failing, if I'll be high?

Why do they make it seem like it's a choice?

If you want me high out of my mind, just euthanize me.

Maybe then the lady at the pharmacy store won't look at me and ask me to show my stomach every time I buy those pesky batteries.

Maybe then my peers won't call me lazy and a faker. 

Maybe then they will believe.

After all, a corpse is much more lovable than me.

It doesn't cost anything.

It doesn't need any help.

And you won't feel guilty if it suffers.

It can't look you in the eyes and say "stop, it hurts", like I do.

It can't cry and ask for help in a high pitched voice, like I do.

I want to be loved.

When will they make me lovable already?