Once and a while, when all is quiet, I throw myself a pity-party and cry myself to sleep.
As I lay there, I think about the past way too much and play
the “what if” game.
Am I sad because I lost my independence or
that I now have to rely on people?
Do I get more irritated with those who have a hard time
understanding me or that I sound different when I speak?
Some call me an inspiration.
That’s funny, I don’t feel like one.
Sometimes, I wish I would have died on that table.
Life would have been easier.
Life is a struggle.
Life can suck,
but I am glad I survived. And through that struggle,
I will find my inspiration.
Time for some Pharrell, so I could clap along.
There’s always tomorrow.