My partner and I were made in Michigan, born and raised on lake-effect snow and with a map on the palms of our hands. In different houses and areas of town, we were both told stories of an island on a turtles' back and a mother bear waiting along the shore for cubs that never came.

The sights and the sounds, the feel of the soil and grass between my toes and rain dripping down my arms, of snow forts built where plow trucks piled the snow over our heads, and swimming in our backyard where it used to flood every year- all these memories make up what Michigan was to me.

We bore witness to such cultural phenomena as The Ring movie series, and such desperation as walking into Creative Writing to watch the second plane crash into the Twin Towers. We grew, made it through the MEAP's, and school dances. We met at City High/Middle School, both bustling to juggle Trigonometry and All Quiet On the Western Front. All that I knew and loved was here in the smiles of my friends and family.

In 2004, I began to say goodbye to Michigan. I knew when the press released that Proposal 2 was passed, banning any same-sex unions, that my partner and I had to leave. Not because of pride, or spite- but to stay alive.

My partner has congestive heart failure. Because of this, insurance will be impossible for her to procure unless she is able to get a full-time job with benefits. But the jobs aren't there- outsourcing has forced factory workers not only to lose their benefits and take lower wages, but are taking the jobs that college students depended on.

Unlike me, she does not have the luck of having parents with decent enough credit for student loans. After two years, she was forced to drop out of college. Without a degree, and living in a state with the highest unemployment rate in the country, we scavenge for any jobs just to get us by.

Even graduation may not heed any change- though I'm fortunate enough to be attending college to get a job with benefits; this will do nothing for her as our partnership isn't recognized.

Unfortunately, heart failure doesn't bend to economic standards. It doesn't listen to excuses; it doesn't adhere to current policy. The crisp white snowflakes of my youth have melted fast. With older eyes, I come home to another bill I can't pay. I not only know that jobs are gone, don't only hear of poverty. I feel it, I am in it- and it is inescapable.