Why did I grow up to be disabled?
Why did men take advantage of me at every age?
How can I make everything better?
What is the point of living like this?
Aah, but then I remember the answer to the last one: the point is to live. To join my breath to the world, to brighten days and shoulder some of the heavy burdens. To make people laugh.
I can not make everything better for everyone, but I can make them better for me. That doesn't solve my problem, but it's a nice sentence...
Bah. I'm trying to be positive. Helpful. Supportive. But all I am is tired, sore, frustrated and nervous.
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