You will lose more than your ability to locomote when you become disabled. You will lose your feminine sashay. You will not be able to walk in heels anymore. You will lose lovers, and you will lose your strength. You will get angry, and you will cry.
You will become identified as something other than what you once were. You are gimpy, and people will ask you what is wrong. Others will be disgusted, thinking you are drunk. Your parents will feel guilty that they passed some genetic malfunction to you.
You will limp with your eyes cast down, because you do not want to look at the people staring at you. You will become an object lesson for concerned parents, who will yank their staring children away.
But you will also be glad of the children and adults who know not to stare. You will meet with kindness, along with some pity. But you will learn to be gracious, if you were not before.
You will know your true friends by their steadfastness. And in your weakness, and your despair, you will one day grow disgusted with how pathetic you now feel. You will turn around and find only you, but you will see that is enough.
And from that fractured and reduced state, you will pull what pieces remain together and resolve to dress that mess up as prettily as you can, because that day you realize there is no time like the present. Every day you will only get better or worse, in large part due to your choices.
That day you regain your will and your dignity, and refuse anything that has kept you down, because gravity is already a heavy enough weight.
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