I am broken

The lift opens, half full.

I lift my head up, look down again and slowly inch my way inside.

They shift themselves, creating a space for me.

 

I hate it,

to contend with people being uncomfortably tense due to my presence. Their faces are like open books.

 

They don’t know I know.

The observing, the trying to comprehend why a girl so young like me is on a wheelchair.

 

They feel joy for themselves because they have both feet firm on ground and sympathy for me because I can’t do the same.

Tangible, I taste it in the air when I lick my dry cracked lips.

 

I forgot how it was to be on bone and muscle, walk and run.

Or that faint crunch on the gravel underneath my feet.

Now, it’s more like leverage.

 

I know you love me. I know you care for me. I know you want to help me.

 

But the truth is,

I am afraid.

 

I do not want to be a burden.

I am afraid of the trouble which I am cause.

I want to do it on my own.

I am afraid of the day when my imperfectness becomes excuse to giving up.

I want to prove myself.

I am afraid of the day which I will mean useless.

 

I am embarrassed by my flaw.

 

You know the people who says “I know how it feels”?

Well, you do not and can not experience it the way I do.

 

When constrained, life is like a jail cell.

Seconds can drag like years, but days can pass by without me realizing.

All is clear now. I have done nothing & I will never do anything.

 

I am a tall girl.

But today, I will never stand again.