I want to be normal. I don’t need to hear that I’m inspiring for doing what everyone else does. I don’t want it to be any different for me.
I get it; a 400 lb. chunk of metal under my ass isn’t the sexiest thing, and my anatomy isn’t out of a Playboy magazine. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it’s frustrating sometimes.
I can’t help but wonder…
“I don’t work here,” he snapped.
I realize I may be pointing out the obvious here, but having a nice, comfortable spot to sit 24/7 is pretty great if I do say so myself.
Truthfully, a part of me wishes I could go back in time to when I was able, just to savor that sweet taste of independence for one more second, but life doesn’t exactly operate like that.
I had a few small seizures during English class, but kept fidgeting so people wouldn’t notice. They’re going to stop soon, I kept thinking. Just keep calm and stay focused on something.
Being confined to a wheelchair my entire life has definitely opened the door to many unwanted (and embarrassing, I might add) awkward situations.
My parents prove that in order to be a lover, you have to be a fighter. Real life doesn’t always come in the size and color we order it in, and you can’t exactly send it back to manufacturing to be fixed or return it for a new one. Real love is the same way.