JournalWord: This isn't a throne.
***
I flex my arms, unsatisfied by the muscles I lack. I’m a runner, not a body builder.
Or I was.
My hands grip the edge of the tires and I push and pull the wheels for momentum before I heave the wheels forward. The unpracticed motion propels me down the hall too fast, faster than I can control, and with a hiccuped squeal of the tires, I crash into a wall.
My palms save me from falling, suctioning themselves to the wall, and I push off, landing the wheels back on all four. The swerve of rubber leaves an unsteady streak on the floor and the soreness of my hands whispers my defeat. I wait, holding my breath for someone to come check the noise, but no one comes.
I slowly exhale, even though I would rather scream. It’s not fair. I slam my fists into my lap, and a tear pricks the corner of my eye when I don't feel anything in response to the blow. My legs are numb, frozen in a state that will never feel pain again. My fists press into my cold thighs, knuckles most likely bruising the skin under my hospital issued pajamas but I don’t care. I want to feel them. I want to feel the knitted muscles of my legs straining against gravity. I want to stretch my legs until I feel my ligaments burn. I want to stand on my own two feet again.
My knees blur in the haze of streaming tears, and no matter how hard I rub my eyes, the waterfall won’t dam. I give up, cursing how pathetic I feel, how trapped I am in this wheelchair. I grab the wheels again, pushing gently on the soles so my palms don’t smart into blisters.
I can’t see clearly so when I turn, my right wheel jerks and collides into the corner, switching direction before tipping forward and sliding me face first onto the floor. My hands sting from the impact and I groan when I shift, only to have the wheelchair press painfully into my upper spine.
The strap is still confining me to the seat, and I feel like I’m being haunted by an execution chair. I bend my arms and struggle to flip the chair over, only to have my elbows collapse in exhaustion. I slam back onto the floor and I just lay there, cheek kissing the tiles, waiting for the sun to rise, waiting for someone to free me from this sentence. I’m giving up once and for all. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep fighting this ball and chain.
***
I am so done with exams, and now I'm finally free! Time to really relax and enjoy a break :)
I'm going to be fiddling with this blog, (maybe posting pictures of my journals... :D) and definitely posting more stories! Input is always encouraged so drop a comment!
Best of holiday blessings to you! Enjoy every last drop of freedom (I definitely will be!!),
~mera!
