When you get everything you want, you are pretty content with everything for a while. Overwhelmed with joy from feeling like you've done everything you'd ever wanted. The chase is now over and you can rest easy. You live your life carefree. But just like consuming the same food every day, eventually you get burnt out and need something else to chase after.
Disability isn't something I was too happy about filing for. However, because it is difficult for me to get around at all, working a job of any kind would me near impossible. I hated the idea that I was overweight. I was so far over weight that it was difficult to maneuver around without something to lean against to support my weight.
I despised going outside because I get so many people looking at me and laughing behind my back. I can't help that I had people in my life allowing me, even encouraging me, to grow up the way I did, stuffing my face with whatever I could find.
I especially hated the fact that I never even had anyone in my life who would be willing to teach me to drive, so I could only survive off food being delivered to my house. It does nothing but make my situation worse.
I had just finished up another bag of chips. I was going to crinkle up the bag and toss it aside like the rest. However, looking around at my home and seeing in such disarray, I felt encouraged to get up and toss it in the trash can. If I could find it, that is.
It took me a few tries, but I managed to get up on my feet and out of my chair. I slowly walked through the piles of trash and toward the kitchen. A sharp pain shot through my leg, causing me to stumble. I'd stepped on something sharp. I had to make it to my kitchen to sit so I could see what it was. I had to walk on that foot crooked to avoid driving whatever it was even further inside.
It felt like it took forever, but I had finally made it to the kitchen. It felt internally like I had walked a mile, even sweating some. I sat down at my table, which was covered in dirty dishes. I lifted my foot up to my opposite knee and looked at the bottom of it. It was a piece of glass. Did I break a plate a long time ago and forget about it? I couldn't recall. I pulled the piece of glass out and sat it on the table.
I thought about going and putting a bandage on it, but I had no idea where I'd left the package of them. I shrugged it off. It was only a cut after all, it wasn't like I was going to die from it.
That night in bed, I tossed and turned. I had nightmares running through my head of a man breaking into my home and stealing everything within while I was helpless to stop him, as any step toward him was exhausting for me. He would escape and I'd call the police, only to be laughed at over the phone. It was humiliating.
I woke up in a cold sweat, my foot still throbbing from the cut earlier. I was curious as to how it was looking now. I lifted my blanket and stared in horror. My foot had swollen and turned almost completely blue and black.
Disability isn't something I was too happy about filing for. However, because it is difficult for me to get around at all, working a job of any kind would me near impossible. I hated the idea that I was overweight. I was so far over weight that it was difficult to maneuver around without something to lean against to support my weight.
I despised going outside because I get so many people looking at me and laughing behind my back. I can't help that I had people in my life allowing me, even encouraging me, to grow up the way I did, stuffing my face with whatever I could find.
I especially hated the fact that I never even had anyone in my life who would be willing to teach me to drive, so I could only survive off food being delivered to my house. It does nothing but make my situation worse.
I had just finished up another bag of chips. I was going to crinkle up the bag and toss it aside like the rest. However, looking around at my home and seeing in such disarray, I felt encouraged to get up and toss it in the trash can. If I could find it, that is.
It took me a few tries, but I managed to get up on my feet and out of my chair. I slowly walked through the piles of trash and toward the kitchen. A sharp pain shot through my leg, causing me to stumble. I'd stepped on something sharp. I had to make it to my kitchen to sit so I could see what it was. I had to walk on that foot crooked to avoid driving whatever it was even further inside.
It felt like it took forever, but I had finally made it to the kitchen. It felt internally like I had walked a mile, even sweating some. I sat down at my table, which was covered in dirty dishes. I lifted my foot up to my opposite knee and looked at the bottom of it. It was a piece of glass. Did I break a plate a long time ago and forget about it? I couldn't recall. I pulled the piece of glass out and sat it on the table.
I thought about going and putting a bandage on it, but I had no idea where I'd left the package of them. I shrugged it off. It was only a cut after all, it wasn't like I was going to die from it.
That night in bed, I tossed and turned. I had nightmares running through my head of a man breaking into my home and stealing everything within while I was helpless to stop him, as any step toward him was exhausting for me. He would escape and I'd call the police, only to be laughed at over the phone. It was humiliating.
I woke up in a cold sweat, my foot still throbbing from the cut earlier. I was curious as to how it was looking now. I lifted my blanket and stared in horror. My foot had swollen and turned almost completely blue and black.
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