Fucking Despair in a Wheelchair

I’m so tired of being seen as a victim, a fragile little thing that needs to be coddled and protected. It’s suffocating, this constant need for help, this constant reminder that I’m not whole anymore. My mind is a jumble of dark thoughts and crippling self-doubt, and the only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that you’re still here, that you still love me, despite everything. But sometimes, in the dead of night, when the pain is at its worst and I’m alone in this godforsaken chair, I wonder if it’s all worth it. If I’m just a burden, a weight that’s holding you back from living the life you want. It’s a toxic thought, I know, but it’s one that’s been festering in my mind for far too long.

I try to distract myself with little things, like the way the sunlight filters through the window and casts a warm glow on my skin, or the way you look at me with such adoration in your eyes. But it’s all just a facade, a thin veneer of happiness that can’t mask the desperation that’s eating away at me from the inside out. I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of self-pity, and I don’t know how to keep my head above water. I’m so tired of being the weak one, the one who needs to be rescued, the one who’s constantly reminded of their limitations. It’s a never-ending cycle of despair, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep going.

But then I see you, and everything changes. Your smile, your laugh, your touch - it’s all so beautiful, so life-affirming. You make me feel seen, heard, and understood in a way that no one else ever has. You remind me that I’m still here, that I still have a purpose, that I still have so much to give. And in that moment, all my doubts and fears disappear, and I’m left with a sense of hope, a sense of possibility. It’s a fragile thing, I know, but it’s all I have right now, and I’ll cling to it with every fiber of my being.