I hesitate to write about infirmity. It tends to be depressing and can devolve into a sinkhole of self-loathing.

There are pleading conversations had with the body and ultimatums the body forces upon you. No longer making promises, not even to myself— I apply beauty products and dare the universe to laugh at my pain…

Mornings find me deep in gratitude— yet today I burn hot with rage, remembering a childhood full of benign neglect. Wanting to travel back in time to hug the junior me — to slay the fire-breathing dragon.

But I cannot change the past, nor do I wish to make peace with it.

Today the sun is shining and so will I.

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