Please, Your Perfume is Killing Me

This is not what I would usually write about, but it is something I feel is important for people to know. I write this, not for myself, but for the numerous people I know who feel this way.

Please, Your Perfume is Killing Me

I know you don’t mean to.

You’d never hurt someone on purpose.

I know you just want to smell nice.

I completely understand that,

Which is why I hate to bother you

And beg you to stop, but I have to.

Please, your perfume is killing me.

It begins the second you walk in the door,

Blissfully oblivious to the cloud of toxic chemicals you bring.

It hits my lungs. They try to reject it,

Coughing — trying to force this poison out,

But it isn’t working. They begin to close.

I can’t breath.

Please, your perfume is killing me.

You sit down a couple rows in front of me,

Chatting happily with a friend.

Never once thinking your fragrance is dangerous.

My heart begins to race. It is getting out of control.

My head starts to spin.

My fingers tremble, whether from the reaction, or the fear,

I can’t be sure.

I have to go. I have to leave.

I’m feeling so sick.

The effects will last for hours,

if I get over them at all.

Please, your perfume is killing me.

I fear the day will come

When you approach me, smelling so sweet.

My heart isn’t strong enough.

It’s finally had all it can take.

I collapse in a crumpled heap on the floor.

You rush over, thinking you can help,

But instead your perfume seals my fate.

You watch helplessly as I struggle for my last breath —

My lungs searching futilely for the clean, fresh air that might save me.

An unwitting murderer, guilty of deadly good intentions.

Please, your perfume is killing me.

I watch you go to concerts.

I watch you listening in church.

I see you out at your favorite restaurant.

Oh, how I envy you.

How I wish I could do those things without worry or care.

But here I am, kept away from others.

Standing in my safe-room

looking out on a world I can never be part of.

My own personal prison

With bars of the most intoxicating fragrance.

Oh, how I wish for the freedom you take so for granted.

But it’s something I fear I can never enjoy.

Please, your perfume is killing me.

If only you knew.

If only the world knew.

There are more of us than you would ever imagine.

I’m not the only one.

We may not be as numerous as you,

But are we any less important?

Should we be banished from the world

With the threat of misery or death should we attempt to participate?

You can help.

Our future — even our freedom — is in your hands.

We don’t have the ability to change ourselves.

If we could, we would.

Only you can be the change for us.

Be considerate. Remember,

Please, your perfume is killing us.

Some may think the above sentiments are a bit over-dramatic, but they really aren’t. They are just blunt. Too many people are unaware of the havoc perfume can wreak on some people’s nervous system. It effects their neural transmitters and can have all sorts of nasty effects. In some cases, it can even stop their heart. It is a serious issue that many people aren’t aware of. It is also more common than most people would guess. I have a very light case myself, but I know so many others who get incredibly sick from perfume. There is an excellent chance that you know somebody who is affected by this to some degree or another. Please, if you can help spread the word, it could even save a life.

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