Access

 Access

Everyone has access needs.
They just don’t call them that.

He needs his coffee strong.
She needs her chair by the window.
They need the lights low, the music soft.
You need silence to sleep.
You need help with the heavy doors.
You need space. You need time.
You need your phone always in reach.

But we—
the ones who say it out loud,
the ones who name it—
we are the ones they call difficult.

Everyone has access needs.
But they don’t wear the name like we do.
Don’t have to ask.
Don’t have to prove.
Don’t have to beg
for a ramp,
a break,
a softer world.

A man with sore knees gets a cushion.
A woman with anxiety gets "just tired."
A child who stims gets labelled.

Everyone has access needs.
But some are treated like preferences.
And some—like problems.

I need captions.
You need patience.
She needs rest.
He needs more time.
They need to speak without flinching.

We all need
something.

The difference is
whether the world says yes
before we ask.